StarCrossed
by Gecko Osco
Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU. USUK, minor others.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Star-Crossed (1/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed <strong>_

_Part One: Beginnings_

Most stories start with the usual 'once upon a time.' While that certainly has a nice ring to it, it gets somewhat boring after a while. After all, all stories have to start upon a certain time, don't they? So while this story may start with a quintessential once upon a time, it also starts with a letter and a necklace. The letter was from a boy and the necklace from a king, and they occurred nearly two decades apart. However, one could also say this story begins with the death of a prince or the birth of a boy, and those people would also be completely correct. To be honest, stories, such as the one you are about to hear, usually have so many starting points it's impossible to narrow them down into one, each event feeding another to culminate into one, single story, which of course simply serves as the beginning of many others after. In this story's case, however, there is a singular starting point from which we can spring from, a summation of all the beginnings mentioned above and the many more left out (such as the curiosity of a princess or the forbidden love of a witch).

So, let it suffice to say that this story starts, first and foremost, with the stars.

The stars lead to the letter mentioned earlier, and the letter leads to a young man named Roderich Jones who lived in a small village by the name of Wall, so named for the curious, man-height wall that ran alongside its border that was said to keep a most wondrous secret. You see, young Roderich wrote a letter to the illustrated and respected science academy in London with an unusual question regarding the stars and if they could be seen the same way from wherever one was on the planet. Now, that may not sound out of the ordinary at all, as it is very much a truth that the stars would look the same no matter where one stood on the Earth, but that was merely the prelude. What Roderich truly wanted to know was whether or not it was possible for another world, a secret one, could exist without our knowing and if the stars would look the same from that side. An unusual query you must expect.

Understandably, the response he received was not the kindest and suggested he seek some sort of help for his delusions—that did not deter Roderich. Instead, he stuffed that reply in his coat pocket and marched himself out of the village and to the wall, where an ancient gatekeeper kept watch of a small, conveniently placed gap in the wall. The gap revealed a normal, unassuming field on the other side which gave no hint it was anything other than a field, but Roderich had to know for himself. Had to know if all the stories and rumors he had heard about the wall had any truth to them so to the wall her went and the old gatekeeper, who liked to call himself Old Rome for some odd reason, was unable to stop him from leaping through the gap and to the other side.

And, on the other side, he found that the academics and scholars had been wrong, and he right. The wall hid the magical kingdom of Stormhold, a world as vast as the Earth but through a veil, connected only by that small gap in the wall.

Roderich, having been proven right and relishing in his success and cleverness, took a small, winding road down to a bustling, wildly colorful village called Market-town, where he saw all manner of odd things; people and goods alike. He was content to just wander and soak in the feel of this new, strange land, when he paused and saw a girl, a most beautiful girl dressed in dark green, her long, honey-brown hair twisted up into a loose bun that tumbled down her slender shoulders and back. He stared and she smiled at him, her green eyes playful and kind—he could not resist her gaze. He walked toward the bright yellow caravan where she sat but before he could reach her, another woman stepped in front of him, an unimpressed expression on her weathered face.

"I don't deal with time wasters," she said to Roderich. She was not old, but not young either, her blonde hair curly and cut short at her shoulders; it was held back from her face with an orange headband. He imagined she had once been very pretty. "Tend to the stall, I'm off to the Slaughtered Prince for a pint."

And just like that, the blonde woman was gone and the young girl had shimmied forward, a smile on her lips and her head tilted to the side. "See anything you like?"

Roderich stammered at first and made a complete fool of himself, though the girl found him quite endearing. She smiled prettily at him and he found his voice once more. He looked down to the wares and saw that the girl was selling glass blown flowers, small enough to tuck into your jacket but expertly crafted. He picked up a blue bell and looked at the girl from over his glasses. "Ah, yes. These ones, how much are these?"

"They might be the color of your hair. Or maybe all of your memories before you were three." He blinked at her, not sure if she was serious, but she continued to speak, not letting him give an answer. "Anyway, you don't want the blue bell. You want this one, snowdrop—it'll bring you luck."

She held up the tiniest flower of the bunch, a white blossom that drooped down like a teardrop and then tucked it into his coat pocket. He glanced down at it and then back up into the girl's eyes. "What does that cost?"

"This flower…costs a kiss." He met her grin and leaned in as she titled her head, offering her cheek. At the last moment though, she turned and her hand came up to cup his cheek, guiding their lips to meet in a brief, but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, Roderich had to blink a few times to be rid of the dream-like expression on his face. "Is she gone?"

Roderich assumed she meant the blonde woman and nodded. She smiled devilishly and took his hand, leading him to the yellow caravan. As she walked, Roderich heard a jingle—he looked down and saw a long chain of silver looped around the girl's ankle, just above her bare foot. She sensed his hesitation and looked down to appraise the chain, a flicker of disgust ghosting across her face before she met his eyes again. "I'm a princess, tricked into being a witch's slave—will you liberate me?"

Roderich nodded and took out his pocket knife, slashing through the silver chain with one, swift stroke. But hold, the chain simply reknit itself! Roderich looked down at the silver chain in his hand and then back at the girl, who looked at him kindly, not surprised. "It's an enchanted chain I'm afraid. I'll only be free when one of the Moon's children falls of their own will. Or she dies, one of those."

She shrugged and stood back up, her dress falling about her gracefully, still smiling; she looked quite unworried about the prospect of a life of servitude. Roderich's face fell and he tucked the knife and chain back into his coat. "If I can't liberate you, what do you want of me?"

She lowered her lashed and grinned devilishly, tugging him up and into the caravan, shutting the doors and windows behind her tightly.

Well, you can gather what happened behind those doors, so no need to dwell, especially when the important part of that union occurred nine months later, when Roderich was back home in Wall, content to let the experience and night live in memory alone. Until one night, when Old Rome brought a small basket to his door in the dead of night—and in the basket was a baby boy with bright gold hair and curious blue eyes that blinked up at Roderich. He took the babe, of course, no doubt that despite the boy's coloring he was his own and he named him Alfred.

Alfred is who this story is truly about—well, him and a star. But don't worry loves, well get to that.

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><p>Alfred Jones was not having the best of days, or so he thought. Sure, he'd probably had worse and he should have strived to stay upbeat and positive even with his struggles—but it was awfully hard to do that after he'd lost his job, gotten humiliated the night before in front of his lady love, and got that odd, sad look from his dad when he saw him at home with a steak on his face. His dad had understood everything, he was always understanding about everything when it came to Alfred, but he still hated that he felt like such a failure. He was hero, he knew it! It sucked to feel so bad.<p>

But still, the day wasn't over yet his dad had said and told him that if he loved Mei, he was going to have to be willing to do whatever he had to win her over. Alfred was only seventeen, but he was fairly sure that Roderich Jones, renowned single father of Wall, was not the best one to give advice on how to woo a lady. Still, it was his advice or none at all so Alfred had gathered up his savings and had bought enough food and champagne for an elegant picnic, eager and nervous to prove his love for Mei. His dad had wished him luck as he set out that night and Alfred took a deep breath as he walked down the roads to Mei's home, his feet knowing the way by heart after making this same journey near a hundred times before. They would have known the way anyway though, they always did.

Alfred was not an unattractive young man; on the contrary, he was quite good-looking and many of the ladies in Wall thought so. But Alfred was a bit…odd. With gold hair and blue eyes, he didn't look a thing like his father and was taller than most of the young men in the village, even back when he'd been young; he didn't talk like anyone else in Wall did either. He never got lost, he was stronger than normal, and his eyes were so deep a blue they looked almost unnatural if you stared too long. He was different—and being different in Wall made getting a girl or boy to notice you was kinda hard. Not that he really mentioned that he wouldn't mind a nice boy—he was weird enough already. And being weird made it hard to get the most beautiful girl in Wall to return your affections, especially when that foreign merchant's rich son Yao kept butting in and ruining everything.

Alfred shook his head and continued to march towards Mei's home—he couldn't be distracted. He needed to focus so he could convince Mei why he would make a better boyfriend than Yao! He reached her home and picked up a stone, tossing it at her window with just enough strength to make a tapping noise. He heard a round of giggles and then Mei was poking her head out the open window, her dark hair spilling over her slender shoulders, a smile on her pretty face. He grinned up at her, but her smile morphed into an expression of annoyance when she saw it was Alfred waiting for her downstairs.

"Alfred, I thought I made it clear that—"

"I know, I know, you didn't want me to bug you anymore. But this isn't me bugging you, this is your birthday present!" Alfred grinned, undeterred by the roll of Mei's eyes.

"It's not my birthday for another week."

Alfred shrugged and lifted up the picnic basket. "Yeah, but that just means your celebration starts early, right? Come on, it'll be fun and I promise to be a perfect gentleman!"

She studied him for a moment before sighing heavily and calling down for him to wait a moment for her to get a robe. He did a small victory dance while he waited and then offered his arm for Mei to take when she slipped out, looking pretty as a picture in a long, dark blue robe and tiny slippers on her feet. They didn't really talk as he made his way to a small, grassy spot underneath a tree just outside the town, but Alfred didn't mind. He had a tendency to babble nervously when he was around Mei; she seemed fine with the silence and even gave a small smile as he laid the picnic blanket out with a flourish and poured her a glass of champagne after they sat down.

"This is delicious! I've had different champagnes before and none of them tasted like this—how does a shop boy afford all this?" Mei motioned to the spread of small, finger foods that Alfred downright hated but knew that Mei would love.

"Well, not exactly a shop boy anymore." Alfred grinned sheepishly and took a sip of the bubbly drink—it was all right but he certainly didn't think it was delicious.

"Oh my, I heard about that. Sorry you know, for asking you to walk me home."

"I don't regret it, I mean, I got to spend more time with you!" Mei blushed prettily and demurred, taking another sip of her drink. "And besides, I wasn't ever a shop boy, just happened to work in a shop. Now I can go ahead and have adventures, live my life the way I want!"

"You sound like Yao. You know that he's going all the way to Ipswich just to buy me a ring!"

"Ipswich? Mei, I'm talking about the big cities, distant countries across the oceans, the North Pole even! Ipswich is like, ten miles away, hardly an adventure and—wait a second, did you say a ring?" Alfred looked at her and frowned, her last words breaking through his own haze of excitement about all the places he dreamed about visiting. She finished the rest of her drink and gave a nod, eyes bright in the candles he'd lit earlier for light.

"He's going to propose to me on my birthday. Exciting, isn't it? So romantic of him to plan it perfectly!"

"Are—are you going to say yes?" This was so not how he'd wanted the night to end up going.

"Well, I can't very well say no, after he's gone all the way to Ipswich!"

"Mei, Ipswich? Really? Come on, I'd go way further to get you a ring! I'd go to London or Paris or even India, battle huge armies and pirates to get the perfect ring for you!"

Mei tilted her head and glanced at him from over her empty glass, popping a small fruit-thingy in her mouth. "Really?"

"Hell yeah I would! I'd go to the Americas and bring you back a ton of gold or—or I'd go to Africa and bring you back a diamond as big as your head!"

Mei giggled and Alfred scooted a little closer, a hopeful smile crossing his face. She smiled at him before she shrugged and turned away a little, looking back up at the sky. "You're funny, Alfred, and very sweet…but people like you and me—we just don't fit, you know? Not really."

It felt like someone had punched him right in the stomach and Alfred looked down and away, frustration and sadness bubbling up inside his throat. "It's really late, I think—I should go."

"No! I mean, it's all right—let's at least finish the champagne, it is your birthday present." Alfred was devastated and unhappy, but it seemed a waste to just toss all the rest of the picnic after he'd spent most of his savings on it. He mustered a small smile for Mei and waved the bottle in front of her enticingly; she laughed again and nodded her head, holding out her glass for more. He didn't refill his and they sat in silence for a moment, Mei staring up at the stars and Alfred staring at the ground.

He honestly didn't mean to be so different, but he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever truly fit in around Wall. Mei didn't want him, he couldn't keep a job—maybe it would be best if he explored the world a bit, tried to figure out his place in it and everything. Maybe if he did that, he'd be more impressive to Mei and she wouldn't care about his oddness anymore. He looked back up and was about to ask her what was so great about Yao anyway when a bright light filled the sky, drawing his gaze upwards. A bright ball of light streaked past them and over their heads, disappearing past the horizon on the other side of the wall. Mei gasped and let out a beautiful sounding sigh as she gazed up at the night sky.

"Oh, a shooting star! Beautiful!" Alfred looked over at the enraptured look on her face and then glanced at where he thought he saw the star fall.

"More beautiful than a fancy ring from Ipswich?" Mei looked at Alfred curiously so he continued, moving to sit on the heels of his feet next to Mei. "I could go and get you that star and bring it back. I'd cross the wall and bring it back in time for your birthday and I bet it'd be more awesome than any ring Yao could get for you!"

"Cross the wall? No one crosses the _wall_, Alfred, you know that."

"I'd do it; I'd do it for you definitely!"

Mei tapped her chin against her glass and gave Alfred a speculative look. "My very own star. And, if you get it for me, you want me to marry you?"

Alfred nodded and sat forward a bit more, excitement spilling from every inch of his body. "I'd love that."

She looked at him a bit longer before she smiled and held out her hand for Alfred to shake. "I believe we have an agreement, Mr. Jones. You have one week to bring me my star or I'm marrying Yao."

Alfred grinned and shook her hand tightly. He could totally do this.

TBC...

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><p>Mei=Taiwan<p>

Reviews save lives!


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Star-Crossed (2/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed <strong>_

_Part Two: Stars_

If you've followed the story, then by this point you have met Alfred and his parents, however briefly, and have learned that as a child of two worlds, his life has been difficult and he does not fit in easily. Not that he knows he's born of two worlds, of course, but it's quite relevant. He lost his job and was rejected by the girl of his dreams all in the same day, but alas there was hope for him still. He had struck an agreement with the beautiful Mei to fetch a fallen star for her in exchange for her hand in marriage.

A fallen star—but the very fact that the star had fallen is not nearly as interesting without the story as to _why_ it fell. As I said, this story is really about Alfred and a star, and I quite think Alfred's hogged enough of the spotlight for the moment, don't you?

The story as to why the star fell begins in Stormhold, at the bedside of a dying king, who had summoned his surviving sons to him with a most troubling dilemma. The Stormhold monarchy had an unusual way of determining the next king, and though many, myself included, would call it barbaric, cruel, and highly unnecessary, they were quite proud of their tradition of princes assassinating one another for the throne. The old king had killed all of his older brothers before his father had even begun feeling ill—he was quite disappointed that four of his sons still lived while he wasted away on his deathbed. The king had once been a handsome man, tall with long blond hair and sharp blue eyes—his eyes were still sharp but it was about the only part that was. That and his mind; he was most importantly a cunning man above all else.

The king was surrounded by three of his sons, who were formally called Primus, Tertius, and Septimus—for our purposes you may refer to them as Ludwig, Gilbert, and Matthew. Equally important names and not nearly as pompous I think you'll agree. They were waiting for the last living son to arrive, Secondus or Antonio, who finally arrived with a swagger so confident you'd think music was playing for his arrival. The king spoke to his sons about the importance of ruling a kingdom and how he was disappointed that so many were still left—but he could always count on his youngest to make him proud. And Matthew did, pushing poor Antonio out a window after the king had tricked him, which admittedly did not take much effort. And so there were three, which was a much more attractive number for what the king had planned. Don't look so shocked at the sudden death, loves, Antonio was never very important in the scheme of things.

He called for his daughter, Una, also known as Elizaveta, who never failed to comfort him when he had been a younger man. "Elizaveta's been missing for years, father," Ludwig said gravely. Gilbert nodded beside his brother; Matthew said nothing and the king looked to him with a sly, fond expression.

"Matthew…"

"Yes father?"

"Tradition dictates that the throne must pass to a male heir."

"Exactly, so why would I ever hurt my sister while these two are still breathing?" Ludwig and Gilbert both snorted and edged away from their youngest brother. He had been responsible for killing not only Antonio but Ivan and Hans as well, both of whom were considerably larger than little, unassuming Matthew. Only Feliks had been spared from Matthew, and that was because Antonio had gotten there first by pure happenstance.

The king laughed and motioned his remaining sons forward. "Since tradition cannot be followed in these unusual circumstances, we will resolve this in a non-traditional manner."

And this is where things become incredibly important, where all this talk of crazy, murdering royal families finally relates to how a star fell. The king took off a large ruby necklace and held it out before him, letting it go once all the color of the ruby had faded away, leaving only a clear gem behind. The necklace floated before him and his sons and he looked to each of them in turn.

"Only he of royal blood can restore the ruby to its former glory—whichever of you is the first to do this will be the next king of Stormhold."

And with that final proclamation, the king died, leaving only his surviving sons and the floating necklace behind. None of the princes moved at first, until they all dove for the necklace at once as it darted away from their hands and shot out the window into the night sky. It sped through the atmosphere and space until it all but disappeared—and hit a star who had been watching the goings on in Stormhold with keen interest. A great explosion rocked the heavens and the star was hurtled towards the Earth, back to the planet that the necklace had come from and the poor star, caught quite unawares and minding his own business you know, fell down, down, down.

Until…crash.

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><p>Pain. All he felt was mind-numbing pain coursing through every inch of his body and he groaned lowly, incapable of moving from where he had crashed. He felt wrong; wrong and hurt and incredibly pissed off that he had been plucked from his home and forced to fall. His wings hurt beneath him and he groaned again when he felt a sharp, hot pain lance up the side of his leg, originating from his ankle. His Light had faded from the area, leaving only him and the stupid, bloody necklace in a moderately large crater in the middle of a wood in Stormhold. Stormhold—oh blast it all to Hades.<p>

Arthur forced his green eyes open and he pushed his aching body into an upright position, sparing one hateful glance for the gold necklace lying to the side. He turned his head and glanced back at his wings, large and shifting from pearly white to soft silver in the moonlight, taking in the feathers that appeared whole and unbroken for the most part, despite the fall. Small favors he guessed. He willed the wings to disappear from common sight and folded them against his back, taking in his surroundings and praying to the Great Mother that he was alone.

No star was safe in Stormhold, he knew that warning well.

He sighed and reached over to grab the necklace, staring at it for a moment before he put it around his neck. He was cold and he wished that his white tunic was a bit thicker and longer—he grimaced when he tried to move his ankle and decided being cold was more favorable than the pain. He wrapped his arms around his body and rubbed at his eyes with his arm, sniffing as he looked around his lonely surroundings again. He looked back up at the sky, his brothers and sisters winking down at him in worry and he felt a swoop of fear, helplessness and grief sweep through him. He trembled and wished he could convince himself that it was simply the cold that made him shake.

He remembered what had happened to Erin. She had fallen centuries ago, playing too close to a comet without any thought to the consequences, and he still remembered her screams, when those vile witches had cut out her heart and ate it to make themselves young again. And now he had fallen…now he was alone and separated from his family and all he wanted was to go _home._ He bit his lip and shut his eyes tight in an effort to rein in his emotions and keep his composure steady; he wouldn't do a damn thing sitting here in a crater, crying his eyes out in pity for himself.

He wiped at his face and placed his hands against the smooth stone of the crater, the heat from his crash and Light having warped the terrain of the forest where he'd landed. He grit his teeth and forced himself into a standing position, leaning heavily on his uninjured leg and he tried to determine what the blazes he could do now. He could try and get help, but he didn't dare trust just anyone with what he was—Erin had done that and look at what had happened to her. If he could get his hands on a Babylon candle, he could get himself home, but he knew the rarity of those candles and doubted he'd be able to scrounge together enough money from the stupid necklace to barter for one. He knew not all witches in Stormhold were vile, loathsome creatures, but what were the odds he'd just happen to run into one of the better ones who would be willing to help him get back in the sky?

Arthur took a deep breath and a small step forward, testing what his ankle, which looked broken from the amount of swelling and bruising, could take. It wasn't much and he would have fallen right back onto his face if it hadn't been for his wings, which had unfurled instinctively to catch him. He frowned and gingerly eased himself back to the ground—he wasn't going to fool anyone into thinking he was just a normal man if his wings kept popping into sight every time he stumbled which he didn't doubt would be often. He was a star; stars didn't need to walk all that often back home. He sighed irritably and lay back down, eyes looking up at the canopy of stars shining above him. He stared for several, silent minutes—until a bright flare of light sparked in the distance and caught his attention as it streaked across the horizon, not unlike a comet. His eyes widened as he watched the light speed closer and closer towards his location, sickening realization jolting through him with terrible certainty.

He got back to his feet quickly, uncaring of the pain that shot through his ankle, because that streak of light was heading straight towards him. Fuck all.

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><p>Alfred rushed back home after walking Mei to her house, anxious and excited to start looking for the star, even if he wasn't exactly sure what a fallen star would look like. He liked science and all the new things that people were discovering about space was all pretty interesting, but it didn't lend much to the hope that whatever Alfred found would be more than a hunk of burnt up rock. Still, if it was what Mei wanted, he'd cross that wall and get it for her! His dad was sleeping so he was able to grab a few things without being noticed, and once he had a rucksack packed with a few basic things and the rest of his savings, he set out for the wall right away. He only had a week to find the star and bring it back; it didn't make a lick of sense to wait around.<p>

Old Rome was guarding the gap in the wall, as usual, when Alfred arrived; he was old and bent with age, but still a large man. He smiled at Alfred as he approached.

"Young Mr. Jones, you're wandering about awfully late tonight."

"Yeah, well, I'm on a mission. I gotta get across the wall to find a fallen star to give to Mei so she'll marry me instead of dumb old Yao!" Alfred smiled brightly and made to walk through the gap but Old Rome blocked him with his walking stick. "Hey, what gives, man? Didn't you hear? I'm on a mission!"

"Oh, I heard just fine, young Alfred. May be getting old and going blind but I can still hear just fine, and can't let you go through that wall. Made the mistake of letting your father through before you were born, not going to make that same mistake twice."

"My dad? My dad crossed the wall?" All thoughts of the star and Mei fled his mind for a moment. "When? Why did he—I mean, did he come back with anything?"

Old Rome fixed Alfred with a knowing look and cackled a little, whirling around and blocking him again when Alfred tried to dart past. "Oh, I'd say he brought back something all right. But that's neither here nor there, get back home with you! Get that lovely lass a normal gift."

"No, she wants that star and I'm going to get it for her!" Alfred then tried to rush Old Rome, who sighed before moving quicker than a man his age should've been able to and sent him flying backwards with a quick strike of his stick. Alfred felt the breath whoosh out of him as he landed hard on his back, blinking up dazedly at Old Rome for a moment before he accepted the outstretched hand. He was pulled up and nudged back towards the village. "On you go then, tell your father hello from me!"

Alfred glared at the old man but did as he was told, trudging back through Wall and to his home with all the weight of a man condemned. And he was condemned—without that star, he was going to have to watch Mei marry that stupid Yao and he was going to be heartbroken. Life pretty much sucked royally. He sat down heavily at his kitchen table, after making his way back inside his house, burying his head in his arms so he could wallow in his misery; wallowing wasn't the most heroic of actions but he figured every good hero got depressed sometimes. He was so caught up in his wallowing that he didn't hear his dad come down the stairs until he felt a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Picnic didn't go as planned?" Alfred snorted and looked up into his father's concerned face with a determined expression.

"Oh no, that went fine, I even got Mei to agree to marry me instead of Yao. Only catch is I gotta cross the wall to get her the fallen star we saw because that was the deal we made, and Old Rome won't let me through even though he told me _you_ went through the wall when you were my age!"

Roderich Jones blinked before he sighed and sat down at the table beside Alfred, a faraway look on his face. "Ah—well that's a problem."

Alfred snorted again before he met his dad's eyes. "Were you ever gonna tell me you crossed the wall and came back? I mean, what did you see?"

"I—I fully intended to tell you it was just—it's complicated Alfred, you understand."

"Why? Why is it so complicated?"

"Because—because I met your mother when I crossed that wall. And nine months later, Old Rome brought me you."

Alfred leaned back and blinked at his dad, who was looking at him with a soft expression. _He_, Alfred Jones, he was the souvenir that Old Rome had referred to—the creepy smile and look made so much more sense now. That was—a lot to take in. "So I've got a mom and she might still be alive, right? And is that why I'm so weird, because my mom's from the other side of the wall?"

"You're not 'weird,' Alfred Jones, just different, and I certainly hope your mother is still alive—she was beautiful and kind, you would have liked her. I think—follow me; I have something for you from her that I was going to give you on your eighteenth birthday. You're nearly there, seems as good a time than any." Roderich smiled and rose from the table, guiding his son up the stairs and to the attic; Alfred followed silently and his head spinning from all the information he'd just been given.

He had a mother…of course he had one but the idea that she wasn't dead was just so-so amazing! When they reached the attic, his dad motioned to a small basket in the corner, well-kept and clean; Roderich sat down on the ground next to Alfred, who had dropped to his knees in front of the basket, touching it gently. He told Alfred the story in the quiet of the attic, the story of crossing the wall, meeting his mother, the flower and chain, which he handed over to his son, and the pain of leaving his mother at her insistence. The pain of not even knowing her name, no matter how many times he asked. Alfred listened quietly beside the baby basket, listening to his dad's quiet tone and the love he heard there still, love for his mom who he'd only met once.

"Is this what she brought me in?"

"Yes, and this is for you." Roderich handed his son a rolled up letter with the seal unbroken on it, addressed to Alfred. "I've never opened it—it's from your mother."

Alfred snatched it, pocketing the chain and glass, snowdrop flower in his coat, and unrolled the letter from where it had been wrapped around a solid black candle. His mother's writing was graceful and fluid and he could see faint stains on the parchment that had to be teardrops. He felt a swell of love and longing for his mother has he read her words, read how she had wanted to keep him but was not permitted to, how proud she was of him even though she hadn't seen him for so long. He blinked up at his dad and smiled bright, handing him the letter. "She said this is a baby-candle and that if I light and think of her, it'll take me to her! If it works, it'll take me to the other side of the wall right? Should I go?"

Roderich smiled at his son and patted his shoulder again. "I think that you're old enough to make your own choices and if you want to light the candle, you should. And—and if you see her, your mother, please tell her that I—that I never—"

"I will, dad." Alfred said, excitement buzzing through him as his father handed him a match. He struck it, and held the flame to the black candle, thought of his mother, and the wall, and the star and then everything seemed to narrow and disappear. His ears were ringing and he seemed to be moving impossibly fast, through the air, water, earth, everything—he grinned wild and free, a whoop of exhilaration escaping him as he whizzed over and through. It was the craziest thing he had ever felt and then, abruptly, it was over and he was aware that it was still night, it was cold, and there was someone underneath him.

He blushed and smiled big, expecting to see his mom. "Mom? Mom, it's me Alfred, I finally—!"

It was not his mother underneath him, it was not even a woman—a slim man, near Alfred's age and dressed in some kind of toga thing, was staring up at him with wide, green-_green_ eyes underneath bushy eyebrows, shock and embarrassment plain on his face. Alfred stared back, unable to do anything else, and the other man quickly began to glare, anger and indignation taking over the previous embarrassment. "Do I look like anyone's bloody mother, you daft moron? Get off me!"

Alfred gulped and scrambled to obey, wiping his damp hands on his pants as he sat back on his heels and watched the other young man sit back up. The other young man with freaking _wings_ coming out of his back, messy blond hair and eyes that just sort of caught you. And made Alfred start coming up with other words for 'green' like emerald and other lame stuff like that. He blinked and shook his head, wondering if what he was looking at was real or a hallucination of some sort. "So um, you're not—right, not a mom, sorry. Uh…you've got—big wings and—"

The other man looked behind him and swore when he took in the wings. Alfred watched in amazement as the man closed his eyes and folded the wings back until they all but disappeared—he could still see a faint outline of them, but he wondered if that was just because he knew they were there. The man met his eyes again, wary and distrust clear in his gaze…and just a bit of fear. Alfred wondered why this guy was afraid, he was the ones with the freaking wings and all! "Are you—you're not to tell anyone about these, understand? They're nothing important and—Mother above, you're not a warlock, are you?"

Warlock? "Me? No! I'm just—I'm just looking for my mom and I—I'm not really from around here. I'm from Wall, you know in England?"

"From the other side? Not Stormhold?"

"What's Stormhold?"

"You're standing in it—_this_ world is Stormhold." Alfred noticed that the other man seemed to relax exponentially at the knowledge Alfred wasn't from around here, still frowning but no longer looking at Alfred like he was going to be murdered or maimed. "You've crossed the wall; you're not in your world anymore."

"Are you serious? So, this is like a whole other dimension and stuff? That is awesome!" Alfred got to his feet and started to look around in curiosity, all but forgetting the winged-man who was struggling to get back to his feet. Another world, he was in another world! It was amazing and so cool and—why was he here and not with his mom? The letter had told him to light the candle and think of her and—

"But then Mei and the star just popped into my head. Wait, that means that—hey, Wing Man, this is going to seem like a funny question but have you seen a fallen star anywhere around here?"

Alfred glanced back when he was only met with stony silence, watching as the other man snorted and rolled his eyes upward, a look of disbelief and bitterness on his face. "You're being clever."

"No, I'm totally serious! Look around, we're in the middle of a crate and this has to be where it fell!" He grinned but that only seemed to make the other man angrier.

"Oh yes, this is where it fell. Or, if you want to be really specific, this is where it fell after being knocked out of the heavens by this bloody necklace," he motioned to the large necklace across his neck, resting against a patch of bare skin that his outfit didn't quite cover, "where it had been minding its own business and not bothering anyone. And right about here, here is where it got hit by what has to be the biggest idiot on either side of the wall!"

Alfred stared at the man for a moment before it clicked. "You're—you're the star?"

The man shrugged and winced as he hobbled over to a larger boulder to sit back down, favoring one leg heavily. Alfred watched in concern for a moment before he hurried over to assist, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist when he nearly stumbled, pulling him flush against his body for a moment. They stared at one another before Alfred smiled charmingly and helped him sit down, an idea forming in his head. The man had red dusting his cheeks but he mumbled a soft, 'thank you' and eased out his injured ankle, which looked to Alfred like it either had a bad sprain or small fracture.

"So, you're really the star?"

"I just said that, didn't I? I'd appreciate it if you don't go blabbing about it though—Stormhold isn't exactly safe for my kind."

"Really? But why?"

"It just isn't."

"Oh…well, that sucks I guess. You probably could use some help getting home or at least somewhere safe, right?"

"Among other things, yes that would be quite helpful."

"Ok—well, I'm gonna apologize for this in advance, but I promise it'll all make sense!" Alfred pulled out the chain his dad had cut and sent it out, watching in humor as it looped around the star's wrist and sealed shut. The star stared at his wrist before glaring at Alfred with the utmost anger and loathing. "This means you gotta follow me right? You see, you're going to be a birthday present for this girl I wanna marry and—"

"Because nothing says romance like the gift of a kidnapped and injured man?"

"Hey now, let me finish explain—"

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with you, wanker!"

The star began to struggle and Alfred pulled the chain tight to keep his grip on it, especially when the wings popped back out and began flapping—Alfred had to really focus to not notice how the wind those wings kicked up blew around the star's Greek-looking outfit, showing off long legs. Mei, he had to think about Mei! "Would you quit flapping around? Just listen for second! If you agree to follow me around like this, people will probably just think you're a servant or whatever and won't bother you, and if you agree to meet Mei then I'll give you the rest of this bubbling candle thing—"

"You've got a Babylon candle?"

"Yeah, that's what I said!"

"You said bubbling."

"Anyway, you can use it and you know, get yourself back home."

Alfred grinned at the star, who was looking at the half spent candle with so much longing and hope it was all he could do to not hug the guy. No, bad thoughts, no hugging of the star, he loved Mei.

"Well that—that barely has even one use left."

"So be happy I'm not using it to get us both back to the wall. Come on, I promise I'll look after you, I'm a hero you know, you'll be totally safe!"

The star met his eyes and Alfred felt something in his stomach clench as they stared; the star ducked his head and nodded almost too shallowly to see. "I—I suppose you're offer is acceptable. I accept your proposition Mr….?"

"Jones, Alfred Jones. You can just call me Al."

"Alfred then. My name is Arthur."

Alfred smiled and helped the star, Arthur, to his feet. "Nice to meet you, Artie!"

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><p>Matthew stared dispassionately down as he watched his older brother Gilbert choke on the poison and collapse on top of the bishop—Ludwig stared in horror that could either have been real or faked. It was hard to tell with Ludwig. Matthew pretended to choke for a moment before he started laughing at the wildly hopeful look that overtook Ludwig's face, glancing up at Ludwig with blue eyes that were so deep they looked violet in some lights. "Did you really think you were king, Ludwig?"<p>

"You killed the bishop?"

"No, I think that was you—you took the wrong glass." Matthew smiled and leaned across the table, not bothered by the dead bodies on the floor, his voice soft. "Ludwig, we both know that you haven't got what it takes to be a king like father, so why don't you just do yourself a favor and leave hunting the necklace down to me. You can stay here, with your books and your pacifism, and when I'm king, I'll let you be Royal Scribe or something."

Matthew's words were soft and kind, like the rest of him looked, but he knew Ludwig could hear the threat in those words, the warning that if he tried to search for the necklace, Matthew would kill him without a thought. He didn't necessarily want to kill his last remaining brother, but tradition was tradition and it was all these fools thought about most days. Ludwig said nothing, only stared at him in cold anger and 'righteous' indignation; Matthew smiled and snapped his fingers to his men, who promptly filed out and down to their horses, which had been ready to go since that morning. "I'm doing you a favor, Luds, be the smarter men our brothers weren't and take it."

And, with that, Matthew turned and followed out after his men, knowing that even though his back was turned, Ludwig would do nothing to stop him. It was for that very reason why Matthew would make the better king—and everyone knew it. He paused and then smiled sadly with a shake of his head as he heard Ludwig hurry out of the room, calling for his carriage to be prepared; looked like his big brother wasn't entirely un-ambitious after all. A pity, that. "Then let the games begin, brother."

TBC...

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><p>King=Germania<p>

Hans=Holland/Netherlands

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	3. Chapter 3

Title: Star-Crossed (3/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3__

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed <strong>_

_Part Three: Witches_

While it is already quite terrible that murderous princes are searching for the necklace that our fallen star just happens to have, a more dangerous and evil foe was still to come. Alfred and Mei were not the only ones to witness Arthur fall that night—three sisters, witches, who were responsible for death of the previous fallen star had seen as well and conspired to kidnap the star for their own dark purposes. Now, it is important to note that not all witches are bad in Stormhold, in fact some are quite good and kind, but these witches are not among them. These witches were dark majesties over most of their kind and had been for centuries, staying young through forbidden arts and from consuming the heart of a star. And now they planned to do so again, time and magic aging them into hags and their magnificent home to squalor. The heart of a star though, that would give them all the youth and power they so craved.

And more, Natalia, the oldest of the three, secretly planned. Much, much more.

She had witnessed the star streaking across the sky and had hurried inside to tell her sisters, Oksana and Soraphine, of what had occurred, what they had been praying for those past few decades. They divined where the star had landed and decided to draw lots to see who would go out and seek it, to use cunning and trickery to dupe the star into believing they wished to help it. No doubt, it might have witnessed what had happened to the last one; they knew they would need to be delicate, patient, and above all shrewd. They cut open a poor ferret from groin to throat and drew lots be means of organs, Natalia cheating to draw the heart which would ensure she herself would be the one to go—I told you, these witches were the bad sort. Killing innocent animals and eating the hearts of stars are just among the many atrocities they've committed.

"You'll be needing what's left of the last star," Oksana murmured. She snapped her fingers and a box covered in cobwebs and silk scarves floated towards them. Soraphine took it and unlocked the box, a bright light shining out from a small sliver of something against the blue velvet.

"Not much left." Natalia's voice was soft and unassuming, dangerous for those who did not know the ruthlessness she possessed.

"Soon they'll be plenty for all of us," Soraphine cackled with a clap of her hands.

Natalia nodded and took the remains of the star's heart, the glow bright and brilliant in the gloom of the mansion, and swallowed it whole. Instantly, the age and wrinkles melted off of her, ice blond hair sprouting from her head and when all was done, a beautiful woman was left, staring at herself in a mirror before she turned back to her sisters. Oksana went and got the black rune stones for her to navigate Stormhold with and Soraphine fetched a great black knife to cut out the fallen star's heart out while it still beat, enchanted to keep the heart glowing even after the star died. She took both of these tools and assured her sisters she would not fail as she put on a dark blue dress and riding cloak and left the mansion with confident, sure steps.

If only her sisters knew it was not them she wished to bring back to life—but, that was not for them to know until it was all too late.

* * *

><p>Alfred was trying to not get frustrated, but he was about <em>this<em> close to snapping at Arthur to quit his whining and to just keep heading north, that he knew he was going the right away and he never got lost. He was tired too, but they only had a week to get back to the wall and Alfred had no idea how big this Stormhold actually was—they had to keep pushing and it was hard to do that when Arthur never shut up about how he hated walking and how it was daytime and he was tired or how much his ankle hurt. Alfred felt bad, he really did, but there wasn't time to slow down—once he got to a bigger city or something, he'd take Arthur to a healer or doctor, but until then, he would just have to deal. It wasn't like Alfred hadn't tried to help—he'd offered to carry Arthur, promising that it wouldn't be a big deal since he had weird strength, but the star had not appreciated the idea and had smacked Alfred upside the head.

"How do you even know where we're going? You're not from this side of the wall as it is!"

"I told you, I just know, all right? Would you quit harping about it? Look, the wall's north and that's the way we're headed."

"Your assurances in navigation do so much to put me at ease—and would you slow down? Bloody fuck, my ankle is broken!"

"I offered to carry you, you know!"

"I am not some weak-kneed child for you to carry!"

"Well you sure sound like one!"

"That's it!"

Alfred's chain tugged and he glanced behind him to see that Arthur had hobbled over to a tree and plopped down by the stump, crossing his arms and glaring up at Alfred. He did look exhausted, Alfred had to admit; he felt a twinge of pity and remorse as he made his way over. He really didn't want Arthur to get hurt, he was a pain in the ass and more crotchety than an old man, but Alfred knew how hard it was for Arthur. Still, they had a deal and Alfred had to get Arthur to Mei before her birthday.

"No, no no! We agreed we'd stop to rest at the next town, we need to keep moving."

"Well have fun with that, I refuse to move another inch! Do you have any idea what time it is, Alfred? It's midday, I never stay up this late! I'm exhausted and tired and my ankle feels like it's the size of a bloody grapefruit and I am not moving until I've rested!"

"You can rest at night!"

"If you haven't noticed, night is when stars have much better things to be doing. Shining, blinking in the night, that sort of thing."

Alfred took a deep breath and resisted the urge to start screaming. Arthur just—he infuriated him. He had never met someone who made him so angry before, so-so everything before! Yao pissed him off yeah, and Mei did funny things to his breathing when she smiled at him but Arthur—he was torn half the time between throttling him, hitting him, and kissing him until they both couldn't breathe, and none of those were viable options. Especially the kissing; why was he even imagining kissing Arthur? He loved Mei, _Mei_! He took a deep breath and rubbed at his temples from beneath his glasses.

"Listen, I know you're tired, Artie, I know."

"My name is Arthur, how many times do I need to say it before it sinks in to that thick skull of yours?"

"Fine, _Arthur_. I know you're tired, all right? But if we don't get back to Wall before Mei's birthday then—then all this is just pointless, you know?"

Arthur stared at him, silent and stony, for a moment before he sighed and all the anger and frustration just seemed to deflate out of him. "I'm sorry Alfred but I—I literally do not think I can go any farther right now without collapsing. I'm practically falling asleep on my feet and—I'm not used to all this walking as it is! If I could fly, I would, but we both know I can't."

"Because 'no star is safe in Stormhold' yeah, you told me." Alfred sighed before he gave a wan smile and un-looped the chain from around his wrist. Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw that Alfred was wrapping the chain around the tree trunk and linked it together so it kept Arthur where he was. "Ok, just rest then, I'll go ahead and continue to the next town to get some food and maybe some stuff for your ankle."

Arthur nodded and rested back against the tree trunk. He didn't look thrilled about being chained to the tree, but Alfred didn't care; he'd just be a little bit and he frankly didn't trust that the star wasn't going to run off the first chance he got, promise or no promise. And he really didn't want Arthur wandering off without him, where Alfred couldn't protect him. "If I get mugged or assaulted chained here, be assured I will hold you personally responsible."

Alfred grinned softly, liking how his grin never failed to make Arthur's cheeks go red. "Don't you worry, Artie, I'll be right back."

And with that he was off, running down the path to the town because the quicker he got there, the quicker he could get back. And getting back to Arthur had somehow become awful important to him in the one day they'd known each other.

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><p>It was still morning when Natalia came across a fellow witch on her hunt for the star—she knew who she was but would not be cruel or unkind without due course. This one followed the Dark Mother, she could sense it, and Natalia always believed in treating loyal followers with the same respect she expected them to give to her. They were all united under the Dark Mother after all; they were her fellow sisters in a sense no matter the difference in power. This witch looked a bit worn, blonde hair pulled away from a lined face that had hints of beauty to it and wasn't the cleanest of women. She was hunched over a small fire, roasting what looked to be a rabbit, and glanced up at her with sharp eyes when Natalia approached.<p>

"I be no one of notice m'Lady, be on your way, I shan't do nothin' or—"

"Hush now, there's no need of that with me. I know what you are and I swear on the sisterhood of which we both belong, I mean you no harm this day. I am hoping you would be kind enough to share your meal though; I've journeyed long and far and am weary." Natalia watched the witch's face morph from one of timidity and fear to cool appraisal, a small smirk overtaking her face.

"Well then, that changes things a bit. Wait there a moment, I'll get you a seat." The witch snapped her fingers and a small green bird that had been perched on the caravan disappeared in a plume of smoke, leaving a young woman in its wake once it cleared. Natalia gave a small nod of impress at the show of magic—witches were all the same, couldn't resist showing off their talents in front of one another. The girl brought a small chair for her and bowed low before turning to the witch again.

"Anything else?"

"Nope." The witch snapped her fingers and the girl transformed into a bird once more. She flew back up to her perch and Natalia noticed a silver chain of moonstones wrapped around her wee ankle. "You'll have to excuse the wench, I don't like to keep her mucking about if I can help it—more trouble than she's worth, that one. Now, which would you like, heads or tails?"

The witch grinned at Natalia as she took her seat, motioning to each end of the rabbit with a great carving hatchet. Natalia inclined her head in thanks and motioned towards the head. She always had a taste for the brains of a beast; it felt to her like she was consuming the knowledge of the creature as well. The witch nodded and split to rabbit in two, summoning up two plates and handing a blue one to Natalia with some roasted greens as well. Natalia took a bite and was content to eat in silence for a time—it was good to rest her aching body for even a brief spell of time.

"So, were are you off to, Sister? Traveling far?"

"I seek a fallen star," Natalia responded unthinkingly in between bites of her meal. "It fell not far not two nights past and once I find it I'll take my knife and cut out its heart while it still lives—and then my beloved will—will be restored."

"A fallen star eh? Well, that's the best news I've had in ages…could do with a little touch up meself." The witch smirked to herself and Natalia looked down at her food with a dark expression. She took a sniff and smelled it clearly, smelt the truth grass littered among her greens—she looked back up at the witch with anger and betrayal.

This witch was trying to steal her star, trying to steal its location straight from her lips! She threw the plate into the fire and rose to her feet so fast that the small stool tipped over with a thump. "Limbus grass? You dare to steal truth from me with Limbus grass?"

The witch shrugged, not concerned over her breach in etiquette among Sisters, not concerned that she was trying to take what was rightfully Natalia's, and Natalia felt rage flow through her, changing the very air and sky around them. The witch glanced around in curiosity at the power she no doubt could feel swirling in the air, but it was too late for her. "Do you have what a large mistake you just made, Bridget Oakbark?"

Alarm sprang up on the witch's face and she jumped to her feet, the sound of her true name ringing between them even though it had not been revealed. "How did you—"

"Because, you have dared to trick the Chosen of the Dark Mother herself." Natalia's voice was soft and deadly as a snake's hiss; she allowed her power to overtake her for a moment, revealing that she was indeed a Dark Queen, her face morphing into something unearthly and wicked. The witch gasped and dropped down to her knees, shock and fear overtaking her face—in the background, the green bird was fluttering and chirping wildly.

"I beg your pardon, your Dark Mistress, I didn't—"

"I know very well what you did and didn't intend to do. It doesn't matter though." Natalia lifted a hand and pointed at the kneeling witch, ice blue power swimming around her and coming to a head at the tip of her finger before blasting it at Bridget. "_You will not know the star, nor will you touch, see, or hear it. Standing even before you, you will not find it._"

The power was sucked back from the air after her curse was completed and Natalia glared down at the stunned, immobile witch with disgust. She wiped her hands down on her dress to be rid of the damp feel of magic and stepped away from the campsite and back onto the road. "Pray you never meet me again, Bridget Oakbark. Next time, I cannot promise you will escape me with only a curse."

She stormed away then without a glance back, her dress flapping in the wind behind her and her hands clenched tight with barely suppressed fury; a cursory glance down to her arm showed age spots. She had probably gone a bit overboard with the magnitude of the curse, but she was not going to regret her decision—anyone else with knowledge of the star was dangerous. She would not allow anyone else to hunt for it if there was even the slightest chance they would succeed before she did. Too much was at stake, she _needed_ that star and would not rest until it was hers.

There was more than beauty and youth at stake here for Natalia, much, much more and it was more important than the power the star could bring her and her sisters again. With a star's help, she could bring _Him_ back from beyond the grave, back from the cursed veil he had been doomed to. _He_ could be with her again with the heart of a star, she was positive! If it could grant immortality, surely it could bestow life stolen away before its time as well. And she, with all her power and experience and blessings from the Dark mother, she could do it, could restore him back to life. And to her.

With that thought steeling her, she moved on and forward, determined to find her star before anyone else.

* * *

><p>It was night and Arthur was awake, bored and sore from where he'd been chained to the damn tree. He shifted again, wincing when his ankle was jostled more than it appreciated, and sighed out loud in annoyance. Alfred had been gone a long time, and though Arthur had been asleep for most of it, he was beginning to get a little concerned that he'd been gone so long. Not concern for him, of course, Arthur could care less what happened to the great buffoon—but he did need him to get home and it was helpful having someone around to ward off suspicions on where he was from. That was it though; well, and he was rather young, probably didn't have much experience in traveling on his own. Not that Arthur did either, but he'd watched plenty of people have adventures from the sky so he probably was much more versed on the subject than Alfred.<p>

He huffed and shifted again, scowling up at the silver chain that was wrapped around his wrist, wondering why Alfred even insisted on using the damn chain in the first place. He said he'd go with the idiot to try and impress this Mei woman; it seemed pointless to keep him chained up, even with Alfred's idea that now he looked like a slave. The only people in Stormhold who kept slaves lately were witches and warlocks—and that was generally because the slave had done something to offend them. Alfred would not strike anyone as the warlock-type. And while royalty had servants, they weren't dressed in the finery to pull off that sort of lie—the chain was stupid and he hated it.

It was mostly silent in the woods and Arthur directed his gaze back up to where his brothers and sisters blinked down at him, fighting down the wave of homesickness that swept through him. If he were home, he'd be looking down at all the different planets and life-forms, watching them as they lived their lives and cultures. He liked humans and Earth the best—of all the different things he had seen and watched, mankind was by far the most interesting. The most bloodthirsty in some cases, and at time so he had a hard time watching what he saw, the wars and the prejudice—it was terrible on either side of the wall. But watching how mankind loved…well, it made the rest of it a bit more bearable. He had even used to wish he could have the adventures he witnessed so often. Now though, now he couldn't even fathom why he had ever wished for such a thing. It was calm and steady home—down here on the ground it was anything but.

Arthur blinked and brought his attention back to earth when he heard the bushes to his left begin to rustle, unmistakably the sound of someone, or something, approaching. He sat up straight and cursed the damnable chain again; with nothing else at hand, he picked up a rock within his immediate reach. The rustling grew louder and louder—until it faded away and a unicorn stepped out from the brush, white coat gleaming in the moonlight, dark eyes regarding Arthur stoically. Arthur smiled and dropped the rock back to the ground, feeling worlds relieved that nothing carnivorous had been there; he reached out a hand to the unicorn to pet his lowered muzzle.

"You gave me a scare, handsome. You shouldn't sneak about at night." The unicorn neighed and Arthur settled back against the tree with a grin. The unicorn continued to stare at him until he lowered his horn to the chain around the tree. And, at once, the chain dissolved and vanished; Arthur let out surprised laugh as he climbed back to his feet, careful of his ankle. "Well, aren't you a clever boy?"

The unicorn nodded his head and lowered to his knees, catching Arthur's eye for a moment, making it clear he meant for Arthur to climb on. Relieved that he wouldn't need to walk anymore, Arthur didn't hesitate. Unicorns were universally respected by the stars—they were virtuous, kind, and always paid due respect to the Mother moon; Arthur knew he could trust this handsome fellow without question. Once he was astride, the unicorn rose to his feet, or hooves as it were, in a smooth motion and cocked his head back to study Arthur, clearly waiting for some sort of direction. Arthur looked down the road Alfred had hurried away on during the day. "I—I suppose he did just end up getting himself lost after all. I don't really know where—why don't you decide, hm? I don't really know where I am other than Stormhold and you seem to be the better choice for navigator of the pair of us."

The unicorn whinnied and tossed his head before taking off in the opposite direction—Arthur turned and watched the empty road behind them for a few moments before turning forward and keeping his eyes on his new path. Alfred would be fine—he shook his head, gripped the unicorn tighter with his hands, and kept looking forward.

TBC...

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><p>Oksana= Ukraine<p>

Soraphine = Monaco

Bridget Oakbark = Belgium

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	4. Chapter 4

Title: Star-Crossed (4/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<strong>_

_Part Four: Brothers**  
><strong>_

You should know at your age that traveling alone never ends well, and that theory will hold true for both Arthur and Alfred, though I encourage you not to get angry them. In some sense, it actually did them good that they were separated, despite the utter stupidity both have, admittedly, exhibited so far. Such as chaining the poor star to a tree of all things, which was pointless and a waste of time—I suppose the star shouldn't have wandered off either though so it was fault on both parties. But, we'll come back to them in good time, because as I mentioned in the beginning, there are many different events going on that all relate in some way to our story. And one of those many things is the death of a prince.

Or, really, the death of three princes, which then turned into four as we've learned, but it is one in specific we must look at. His name was Ivan, or Quartus if you're feeling especially formal, and he was unsurprisingly the fourth son of the king. He was also the first brother of the lot killed and the one most believed destined to do the killing. He was a bit, touched you might say and had a habit of carrying around a lead pipe wherever he went—he was a handsome fellow, as all the royal family were, very tall, and had unusually purple eyes that were often alight in childish cruelty. It was for these many reasons that Matthew killed him first—you could be cunning and outsmart others but there was no way to predict unpredictability, which Ivan was ripe with. It had taken the other princes by surprise and they should've been warned at just how dangerous their youngest brother was; they hadn't believe it had been Matthew though, not until he killed Hans as well. Pity to them I suppose.

Anyway, Ivan was the first prince to have been killed, but what most didn't know was that Ivan had been in a relationship with a witch, a rather powerful witch who loved him with all her heart. Now, Ivan was not really the sort to understand or fall in love, but he knew that she loved him dearly and of all the people he treated cruelly, he treated her best because of that love. She had looked older, not as old as her sisters, but that hadn't mattered to the fourth prince, who saw a way to boost his chances for the throne—and for a time they were happy. She believed they were happy.

His death caused quite a stir, being the first death of a prince since their present king had killed off all his brothers, and had been broadcasted throughout the land—reaching everyone, including witches who did not generally keep up with the royal family of Stormhold. Most people talked about the death for a time, but soon enough forgot all about it, different things and happenings drawing them back into their everyday lives—the witch though, she never forgot. She made sure to never forget and dedicated a good portion of her power, and youth subsequently, on trying to find anything that would bring the prince back from beyond. And she had made a startling discovery, something that no one, save the current king of Stormhold, had ever known.

When a prince of Stormhold was killed, he was cursed to stay in the Inbetween until the next king of Stormhold took the throne—his soul was confined to the living world and shadowed the living princes. The witch had rejoiced because perhaps she was powerless with a normal death, but with a soul, a whole world of possibilities was open to her. She would need to wait until they were only a few of the princes left of course, so she could be sure that Ivan's soul was a following at least one of them, and then somehow trick the prince into coming to her manor. And she had waited, waited until she received word that only the first and last princes remained and she knew all she needed was one more thing.

Natalia needed a star to fall.

Do you see how connected everything truly is yet? And to think, we're not even halfway to the end yet.

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><p>Matthew was standing alongside the northern coast and staring out at the icy blue waters interspersed with small icebergs with a calm, collected face that betrayed none of the anger brewing beneath his skin. His father had taught him that the only thing betraying your anger did was tell your enemy you had a weakness or they were getting to you—and his brother's pathetic attempt to ruin his search for the necklace was not getting to him. He was annoyed, that was it, and soon his older brother would learn how foolish it was to try and get in his way. He was <em>going<em> to be king; everything he had done, everything he had worked for since his sister—he would not let it be ruined. He took a deep breath and smiled softly when he heard a horse gallop from behind him; his trusted lieutenant Kumajirou had arrived with his…guests. He turned away from the ocean and walked up the rocky beach to a small gathering of ice rocks and smiled amiably towards the shivering pair before him.

"The soothsayers, my Prince."

"Thank you, Kumajirou." Matthew turned his attention to the Lovino Brothers, a pair of young men who looked identical save for the color of their hair and eyes, the younger smiling vacantly up at him while the older looked nervous. As he should be, Matthew thought with grim certitude. "Brothers, I believe you instructed us to head north for the necklace my father hid among our world, and north we went. And now, it appears that we've gotten bit lost—I was hoping you would be able to shed some light as to why that might be, especially when your services came so highly recommended."

"We-we only told you what the runes told us!" The older one, Lovino was terrible at keeping himself under control. Even if Matthew hadn't been suspicious before, his behavior would have told him all he needed to know. The other brother, Feliciano, was too simple-minded to really grasp anything and just nodded along with his brother.

"Ve, ve! The runes said, 'go north' so we tell you to go north!"

Matthew nodded and frowned. "Is that right?"

"Yes!"

"Y-yes, your Highness!"

Matthew tapped his chin and nodded. The soothsayers turned to leave, but Matthew clapped his hands together, drawing both of their attentions back to him. "Before you both go, I have a few more questions for you both."

The brothers looked at each other before nodding and stepping forward to an ice rock that had a shallow dip not unlike a bowl. They each had runes and pulled them out from their cloaks at the same time. Matthew nodded and gave a reassuring grin. "Is my favorite color red?"

The brothers looked at each other again, confused, but Lovino tossed the runes into the dip and the runes all landed symbol side up. "Yes."

"Wonderful, another question. Am I the seventh son of Stormhold?"

Feliciano tossed the stones this time to the exact results. "Yes!"

"Good. Now, has excessive begging or pleading or sob stories of imperiled loved ones ever persuaded me to spare the life of a traitor?" Lovino looked pale but Feliciano just grinned and tossed the stones again when his brother made no motion to do so. The runes all landed blank side up.

"No!"

"I have one more question and then you'll both be free to go. And this time, throw your runes high." Lovino gulped but did as he was told, and while the runes were in the air, Matthew asked his final question quietly. "Do you both work for my brother?"

When the runes fell, they were symbol side up again and both soothsayers looked sick, even dim-witted Feliciano. Matthew met their eyes and nodded his head softly. "That's, unfortunately, what I thought. I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid I made myself very clear about traitors."

His sword was out of its scabbard in a flash, and before either brother could do more than blink, their throats were slashed; they fell dead to the ground. Matthew spared them both a pitying look and motioned one of his men forward, wiping the sword off on his tunic. He tilted his head towards the runes and the guard picked them up without hesitation. "Find out if we must go south, will you? I won't have us losing any more time than we already have due to my brother's little games."

The guard saluted and tossed the runes as Matthew made his way back to his horse—Kumajirou pulled up alongside him on his horse once Matthew was seated atop his dark stallion, a serious look on his face. "What of the soothsayers, my Lord?"

Matthew shrugged and spared his closest guard a small smile. "Burial at sea should work fine, make sure to give them both the proper rites—and cut a lock of hair from each of them and send them to my brother. If he is going to tangle other people into our game, he should know that their lives are as much at stake as his own. Perhaps he'll think twice before sending boys to do his dirty work for him."

Kumajirou nodded shortly and shouted out Matthew's orders to the rest of his men, leaving Matthew alone with only the shout of 'south, milord!' to keep him company. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Matthew did not enjoy killing people. It pained him to have those two soothsayers killed due to his brother's meddling, but if he was going to be king, the kind of king who could make changes to 'tradition' and expect them to be upheld in a land that would not welcome change, he needed to show that he was deadly serious and not to be trifled with. Cunning, his father had always said, cunning and guile will always win out against the most dangerous of foes. So Matthew would let the people, including Ludwig, all believe him to be a cruel, heartless monster until his hold on power was absolute and unquestionable.

"Then, then changes will be made," he murmured to himself. He nudged his horse with his heels and took off down the road, not worried that his men would follow—they always did.

* * *

><p>Alfred hadn't meant to take so long in getting back to Arthur—he really hadn't. Especially considering he'd tied the star to a damn tree, which he could admit in hindsight wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, and effectively made him the easiest target ever. He'd just, you know, done it and now he was staring at the abandoned tree trunk, a cold, uncomfortable feeling spreading through his chest as he spotted the hoof prints alongside shuffled foot prints in the dirt. He sighed and tossed the food he'd bought in the small town on the ground, cursing the dumb old lady who had asked for his help in crossing the street—who knew that the 'street' was actually a euphemism for five miles to the neighboring town across the river. It had seemed the heroic thing to do at the time but now—now Arthur was gone and Alfred was upset. And only a small part of his heart was heavy because that meant Mei wouldn't marry him now, which made him feel even more confused.<p>

Mostly, he was just upset that Arthur was gone, and Alfred didn't know what to make of that. He kicked the tree trunk, hard, and then plopped down on the ground, his eyes automatically drifting upwards to glare at the canopy of stars in the sky, blinking down at him. "Your brother is a stubborn, stupid, pain in my ass, you know that?"

There wasn't an answer, but Alfred hadn't expected one; he settled against the tree trunk and tried to not focus on the fact that he'd basically driven Arthur away on his own. He didn't think he'd been kidnapped or captured or anything, there weren't any other foot prints but the star's tell-tale limp with the hoof prints, and that meant that Arthur had somehow left on his own. And frankly, a small part of Alfred's head whispered that he couldn't blame the star for doing so—tying someone to a tree and leaving them for hours, even if unintentionally, was not going to win anyone over as a friend. Especially someone whose trust in him was dubious to begin with; Alfred sighed again and closed his eyes.

He wasn't really tired, but he felt himself begin to drift the longer he kept his eyes closed, and it was just as he was hovering on the edge of sleep, that he first heard it, a whisper, his name.

_Alfred…Alfred_

He tossed against the tree and rubbed at his jaw, feeling the soft catch of stubble beginning to crop up on his face.

_Please Alfred…protect him, protect our brother._

Alfred scrunched his eyes together before he blinked awake, annoyed at his stupid subconscious and its muttering, but he wasn't greeted with a view of the forest when he opened his eyes. Instead, he seemed to be in the sky, surrounded by bright lights, concerned and tight faces blinking at him from behind the brightness—stars. They were stars, just like Arthur; he could see the outlines of their variously patterned wings behind them. He rubbed at his eyes but they didn't disappear, instead, one seemed to fly closer to him, green eyes, not unlike Arthur's but a bit paler in color, pinning him. He had what looked to be a piece of gauze across his nose and his hair was dark brown and messy on his head. His eyebrows looked just as thick as Arthur's.

_No star is safe in Stormhold, Alfred Jones, no star. Another of us fell centuries ago…_

The scenery seemed to shift and melt away to show a young woman draped in a white dress, her leaf-like wings spread out behind her, bright red hair framing her pretty face. She glanced around, obviously confused, but then was met with three old women, who welcomed her and promised to get her home safely—she went with them. The old women led her to a spooky looking manor but were kind to her and petted her hair not unlike a grandmother would to her grandchild.

_She was found by three witches—they tricked her, cared for her, and promised her adventures before returning her home. And when her heart was once more aglow, after the ache of falling had been erased—they—_

The brown-haired star's voice caught and he was unable to continue; but Alfred could see it, could see how they led the red-haired girl to a table and how she willingly laid down on it, a soft glow to her skin. Then, a flash of a knife from one of the witches and it plunged into the girl, horrified in her last moments; Alfred looked away when the witches removed the still glowing, living heart from the dying star and began to eat it.

_We could not save Erin, Alfred Jones—Arthur is in similar danger. The same witches who tricked Erin are hunting him, and they will find him. The unicorn came to help Arthur, but now they are wandering into a trap—save him, we beg of you to save him._

Alfred found himself nodding without really thinking about it; that poor star, Erin, she had—no one should have had to experience that kind of death. He couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen to Arthur, not if he could stop it.

_There is a carriage coming, it will lead you to Arthur and the witch; you must get on it, do you understand? At all costs. Run._

Alfred jerked and he was back in the forest, already on his feet and disoriented with a headache. He glanced up for a half second, the image of the brown-haired star's anxious face still strong in his mind, before he took off running back down the path he and Arthur had come from. He wasn't sure how he knew he was going the right way, but he just did; the certainty of it thrummed through his skin. It was dark, but the moon was full and bright, lighting his way through the forest as he ran, catching on the unmistakable shape of a horse drawn carriage that appeared in front of Alfred on a different, forking path. He narrowed his eyes and put his unnatural strength to good use, running faster than humanly possible until he was fully caught up with the carriage, in front of it even. He darted in front of it and stopped, the horses coming to a loud and unruly halt. Alfred breathed heavily to catch his breath and looked up at the stern looking blond man driving the carriage, his clothing and bearing one of wealth.

"Boy, out of the way!"

"No! I—I need to go with you! My friend, he's in danger and he wandered off a few hours ago—he went this way and I've been told I need to go with you to find him!"

The man narrowed his eyes but didn't snap the horses' reins. "You were told? How? A vision of some kind? Are you a Seeing warlock?"

Alfred hesitated for a second before he nodded. It had been sort of like a vision, and if Stormhold was magical and stuff, there were probably people who saw the future. "Yeah, yeah I am! Please, we gotta hurry!"

The blond man was silent for a second before he nodded and scooted over for Alfred to hop on. "I could use your gifts—in exchange for my assistance, I'll ask for yours in my fight for the crown against my brother."

"Crown?" Alfred hopped on, not really caring about the whole 'deal' thing if this guy would agree to help him get to Arthur. Maybe he could just wing a vision or something.

"My name is Primus Ludwig Germania, crown prince of Stormhold."

"Oh—well nice to meet you, Your Highness, my name's Alfred."

Ludwig looked unimpressed with Alfred's lack of manners or whatever, but nodded before he snapped the reins and sent the carriage speeding down the road again without another word; Alfred clenched his hands and hoped that he wasn't too late.

* * *

><p>Natalia was in a clearing alongside a worn, dirt road, her Calling ring put away and the runes inside her robes. The star was on its way, her sister had stated, the gibberish the runes had been telling her had not been gibberish at all—she took a quick breath to try and calm the nerves she felt tingling up and down her body. Finally, after all this waiting, the star was on its way and she would be there to welcome it with open arms once it arrived. It was tired, her sisters had warned, divining the answers from the intestines of a crocodile, and barely glowing at all—she would need to plan quickly to set up the perfect trap to ease the aches and worries weighing down the star. Her prince deserved a star whose heart was bright and shining and she was going to give it to him.<p>

She grinned, looked to the goats she had with her, one born that way the other recently transformed from a cantankerous goat herd, and snapped her fingers. The world was swept away in blue fire.

TBC...

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><p>Make my day and review if you liked this!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Star-Crossed (5/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<strong>_

_Chapter 5: Candle_

We come now, loves, to the halfway mark in our story, which is funny because we have not even been introduced to everyone involved in this story yet! I think it is plain to all of you that this is a story about a multitude of different things. It is certainly a story about growing up, taking your place in the world and the sacrifices that sometimes must be made to do so. It is also a story about trust and forgiveness. It is a story of betrayal and death, as quite a few people have already died so far, haven't they? But, I think above all else, this is a story about love, and don't you dare roll your eyes at that because it is not the least bit sappy, I assure you. Love is a hard and arduous thing, and while it may have its moments of calm, you have to _work_ for those moments.

Not all the loves seen here is the 'kissing kind' you're making that face at! There are many different types of love in this story…such as the love between a father and son, or a mother and son. The love between siblings and friends. Unrequited love, which is a most terrible thing. Love that lasts beyond death, though I should tell you, that is not a healthy sort of love and hope that you will never have to experience it. And yes, there is plenty of the 'kissing' sort of love here too.

Love is a driving force, you know. Just look at what has happened so far and you can see how powerful it can become if given the chance, how much it can influence what you do or who you are—or most importantly, who you become. And while the saying that love can make or break kings and kingdoms is a bit of an exaggeration…it certainly makes a difference if it's a king that is in love. But, we're straying too much, aren't we? Ah yes, I can see that impatient glint in your eyes—fine then. All you really need to know is that love is an important part of this story, especially the love that comes from a star.

Back to where we left off, Alfred and Ludwig were hurtling through the woods and down the dirt pathways, one in the utmost haste and the other with steady caution; Natalia had set a trap most cunning for Arthur, who remained unsuspecting of the ruckus he was causing. It certainly wasn't his fault though; he'd been on the back of a unicorn and apart from it all. Ludwig did not understand Alfred's worry and fear regarding his friend, but he did understand how dangerous it was to be caught outside when his brother's assassins were about. The fact that it had begun to rain just strengthened his resolve to find shelter as quickly as possible. And if Alfred's friend had any sense, so would he—Ludwig was always the practical sort, you understand.

And while they hurried, Arthur aboard his unicorn companion did not; he had arrived at a small inn in the middle of a clearing, a blessing, Arthur thought, since his clothes did little to keep him warm in the rain. He had been fascinated with the falling water at first, having never experienced such a thing before, but after he'd been thoroughly soaked through, the rain had lost its mystique. He was still quite uncertain about what to do or who to trust, but surely not everyone in Stormhold could be terrible, right?

* * *

><p>Arthur slid off the unicorn back carefully, resting nearly all his weight on his uninjured ankle before he slowly hobbled his way to the door of the inn; his clothes were soaked and clinging to his skin uncomfortably. When he had spotted the inn after nothing but rain and mud for miles, he had nearly started to cry in relief—rain was not nearly an exciting phenomenon as his fellow stars thought it was. It was bloody cold and annoying . The unicorn stayed out in the rain and watched him with wary interest, Arthur spared him a glance, checked to make sure his wings were hidden from view, and knocked on the door, desperate that someone was up despite the hour. He let out a relieved breath when he heard movement behind the door and it was opened by a woman who looked to be a few years older than Alfred was.<p>

Alfred—Arthur shook his head and focused on the blonde woman before him. He was not going to think about Alfred, he barely even knew Alfred long enough to think about him! He shivered and the woman tutted in a motherly fashion before gesturing him inside. "Come in, come in my dear, out of that wretched rain! Certainly came out of nowhere—you're lucky you ran into us, you could've caught your death out in weather like that. You traveling with someone, dear?"

Arthur took a proffered blanket with a grateful nod as he wrapped it around his shoulders; the moment it touched his skin, he felt warmer and a hundred times happier than he had been before. The innkeeper was a pretty enough woman, with long, blonde hair and sharp blue eyes; her smile wasn't very warm but Arthur wasn't the best at reading people even though he'd spent most of his life watching. Perhaps she was just a reserved woman, not everyone wore their heart on their sleeve like Al—like some people. "Thank you for letting me in, I'm afraid I haven't any money to pay for—"

"Oh, don't you worry about that dear, I'm not about to turn you back out into the rain over something as silly as money! No, let's get you out of your wet things, shall we? I have some of my husband's old clothes that should fit you, though they may be a little large—he was a big man even in his youth!"

The innkeeper gestured to a rather dopey looking man who had a pronounced overbite. "Billy, be a dear and take tis young man's horse to the stable where it can get out of the rain. And Jaime!" A sullen looking girl slunk out from the shadows and peered up at Arthur from beneath a surly expression. "Would you lead our guest upstairs and prepare a bath for him? Don't want him catching cold."

"You honestly don't have to—" Arthur began before the woman shook her head kindly and patted his bare shoulder.

"None of that, sir, I won't hear a word against it. Now, how do you take your bath?"

Arthur blinked and shrugged, a small smile creeping across his face in the wake of the innkeeper's generosity and welcoming demeanor. It was—surprising. He knew from watching humans for so long that most were petty and unkind but this woman who was helping him without any expectations in return…he felt a swoop of hope and contentment sweep through him, putting a slight bounce back in his step. He had been miserable since he'd fell, but he could feel his feelings and mindset beginning to change—he was beginning to feel not so depressed for the first time. "I—don't really know. Warm, I suppose?"

"Not to worry, we'll discover what works best, now up you get! Jaime will see to whatever you need." The innkeeper brushed her hand against his shoulder again before stepping away to the back; Arthur let out a breath and followed the surly girl upstairs slowly. His ankle had starting feeling worse the colder it got and now it was uncomfortably stiff.

The girl led him to a small room where a large, copper tub stood and began to fill it with steaming hot water from a basin in the corner; once it was full, she wordlessly gestured for Arthur to get in. She turned and left as Arthur undressed and slid into the tub, a full blown smile overtaking his face at how wonderful the warm, nearly hot, water felt against his chilled skin—he'd never felt anything like it before. His wings tingled behind him in response to his comfort and relaxed state—he grinned and rested back against the tub. He picked up a small vial labeled in a language he didn't recognize and poured just a small amount in; the moment he did so, thick, white bubbles erupted and crackled soothingly against his skin.

He heard a knock and the innkeeper came in with a long, white robe, setting it beside the tub and taking a seat—Arthur felt a little odd that she was sitting there with him naked, but the bubbles covered anything important from sight. "This is wonderful, I truly don't know how to thank you."

"Just happy you're feeling better is all—my sister mentioned you were limping before, has the bath helped any?" Arthur noticed her hand was pointing at where his feet were submerged underneath the bubbles and he rolled his ankle experimentally, bracing himself for pain. But none came, he blinked and lifted his ankle out of the water and let out a breathless laugh of disbelief.

"That's—that's extraordinary, it feels wonderful. Do you think these bubbles helped at all?"

"Just the wonders of a hot bath, you'd be surprised how some simple herbs and oils can help aches and hurts." Arthur was too busy marveling at his ankle to notice the way the innkeeper's eyes hardened at the slight shine his skin was giving off. "If you're feeling better, I can put you through some exercises, just to make sure the ankle's truly doing better. I may be a simple innkeeper, but I've been told I have a healer's hands, I'd be happy to help."

Arthur nodded wordlessly and the innkeeper got up with instructions to put on the robe and meet her in the room down the hall when he was ready. He stayed in the tub until the water began to cool and then rinsed himself of the bubbles and grabbed the robe, his smile widening at how soft it felt against his skin. He shrugged it one and rubbed a hand through his damp hair before he slipped out and made his way to the room the innkeeper had pointed at before. The innkeeper was waiting for him, having already turned down the bed.

"I really must insist you let me help you in some way to make up for all that you're doing to me." He sat down at her instruction and smiled politely up at her. "You've truly helped me with my troubles—I feel better than I have since, well, just for some time."

"I'm sure we can find some way for you to payback the kindness, dear. Now, this will work best if you lay down, your ankle at that end of the bed." Arthur nodded and followed her directions, resting back against the comfortable pillows with his ankles near the foot of the bed. "And close your eyes—this may make you a bit sleepy and you'll drift off better that way."

"I do have trouble sleeping at night." He closed his eyes and took a relaxed breath. There was nothing at first, nothing but the quiet of the room and his own breathing, his own heartbeat. He arched an eyebrow and began to open his eyes when he heard a loud knock resound through the inn. He opened his eyes and took in the innkeeper, whose face contorted into one of anger before she gave him a sweet smile, bowing her head in apology.

"I-I'll be right back. Stay here." Arthur nodded and the innkeeper hurried out, sitting up and rolling his ankle himself. It didn't hurt at all, not even a twinge. He frowned and set his feet back down on the ground—he may not be very well versed in all the details of being human, but he was fairly sure broken bones didn't heal themselves from a bit of bathwater. He rose from the bed and peeked out from the door, staring down the stairs as he watched the innkeeper reluctantly help a tall, blond man who was dressed in fine clothes. That was odd, she had been so accommodating to him and Arthur hadn't been able to pay anything, something he was sure this noble man wouldn't have a problem with.

He furrowed his brows and turned back towards the bed when a sharp glint from underneath caught his eye. He pulled the robe tighter around his body and knelt down at his knees to peer under the bed he had just been lying on, a black pit forming in his stomach. There was no way, he would have been able to tell—he grasped the pommel of a long, sharp, wicked black knife before he gasped and tossed it back under the bed. He shot to his feet and could feel his heart rate pick up, his breath coming in quick, unsteady gasps—he was panicking, he knew that, and panicking was the very last thing he should be doing when trapped in an inn with a witch posing as an innkeeper to try and cut out his heart. Rain or no rain, he was getting the fuck out of the inn—he couldn't believe he'd been so stupid! Hadn't watching Erin just trust those women and get murdered for it been enough of a lesson for him?

No star was safe in Stormhold.

He slipped out of the room and peeked down at the lower half of the inn; the witch wasn't there but the blond noble still was, staring around haughtily as he slicked back his wet hair. Arthur held his breath and plastered himself to the wall when he saw the door open and the witch came back out with a wooden wine glass on a platter, a false smile on her face. "Glass of wine, my Lord?"

The man stared at it for a moment before he shook his head and walked closer to the roaring fire. "Until my brother is dead I have vowed to drink from only my own flask—but the lad out in the stables may care for it. Now, your finest room perhaps? I understand you're not accustomed to royalty but I am sure you have something sufficient."

The witch smiled wider before she gave the wine to the girl from before, Jaime, and started to make her way back up the stairs from the other side. Arthur crept down as she stormed up and he breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't see him in her anger. The man, some kind of royalty, a prince if Arthur remembered the ruling family of Stormhold well enough, didn't notice him at first, but slinking against a wall in a well-lit inn only kept him unnoticed for so long. Arthur froze as he met the prince's eyes and his gaze darting upstairs to see if the witch was back before returning to the cautious blue eyes—they looked like Alfred's eyes.

"Are you quite all right?"

Arthur shook his head and rushed towards the door of the inn. "No, I need to get out—you should too. That woman she's—"

He didn't get to finish what the woman was as the door exploded in a flash of blue fire and he backed away with a cry of alarm—the prince let out a noise as well and drew a long sword from his scabbard. "No no no no—this can't—please let this not be happening…"

"I'm afraid it is, star." Arthur's eyes darted up to where the witch was walking back down the stairs, the huge knife glittering in her pale hand. "It's a shame—the bright burning heart of a star at peace is so much better than your frightened heart, but still, better than no heart at all."

The prince glanced back at Arthur, bewilderment and awe on his face for a second until they came to rest at something on his chest; Arthur couldn't be arsed to look down and see what it was, especially when the witch moved quicker than a snake and slit the blond prince's throat in one easy motion. Arthur let out another panicked cry and backed up until his back hit the stone of the fireplace—he was going to die, he had fallen and now he was going to die at the hands of a witch he couldn't possibly hope to beat in any kind of hand-to-hand combat and he—

"Arthur!" His gazed snapped to the side as the unicorn and a very wet, very worried looking Alfred came crashing through a window, scattering broken glass all around.

"Alfred…you…" Arthur stared in disbelief as the boy he had all but abandoned, the stupid idiot of a boy that had chained him to a tree, black-mailed him into a deal, and blathered on and on about a dumb girl named Mei, was suddenly _there_ and standing protectively in front of him as the unicorn charged the witch. "You came…how did you…?"

"No time! Arthur, I need you to hold tight and think of home, ok?"

"Think of—?" Why wasn't anything making sense?

"Just do it!" Arthur nodded and did as he was told, latching onto Alfred's strong shoulders and clenching his eyes tight, focusing every iota of his being on home—he heard Alfred gasp and could smell the distinct scent of burning flesh before everything just…

Turned.

Alfred blinked around and tried to focus on where they were. The last few minutes were all just a blur, the girl with a man's voice, the poisoned wine that the unicorn had saved him from, rushing into the inn to see Arthur backed into a wall, terrified, as a witch, a freaking _witch_, advanced on him with a bloody knife and a dead Ludwig on the floor, and using what was left of the black candle to get him and Arthur out of there alive. He felt a pang of regret at Ludwig's death—he hadn't known the prince for that long, but he had seemed like a good guy, especially in comparison to his crazy, murdering brother Ludwig had complained about. He had hadn't deserved to die like that. But he couldn't let himself feel bad about him, not when he was thousands of feet up in the air, being pounded by rain, and had a nearly gutted star clinging to him with shaking limbs.

"Where the hell are we?"

"I—I don't bloody well know!"

"Well what the hell did you think of? I said think of home!"

"I did! I thought of my home, and you obviously thought of your home and now we're stuck halfway between the two!"

Alfred knew he should've been more sympathetic, what with Arthur almost getting his heart cut out and all, but honestly? How stupid was he? "You—why the hell would you think of _your _home?"

Alfred turned to glare at Arthur, who was soaked and glaring up at him with bright eyes. "Because it _is_ my home, you daft berk! You wanted me to think of your home, you should have said so!"

"Some lady's gonna cut out your heart and you want more specific instructions? Tell you what, next time I'll prepare a whole diagram for you just so you know exactly what to do, that way you won't need to use common sense!"

Arthur looked like he wanted to scream something back at Alfred, but whatever it was, it got lost as a huge net fell down on top of them and the only noise they made was muffled alarm and surprise. Alfred grabbed onto Arthur instinctively and blinked up through the rain was he made out blurry outlines in black—his glasses were all but useless in the rain and he had to be seeing things because who the hell would be in the sky, in a storm, with them? The outlines were mumbling something similar among themselves.

"Think we got a couple of Lightning Marshalls, captain?" The voice who asked was very much female and came from a darker blob than the rest, directly in front of Alfred. The figure to the woman's left knelt down and Alfred was able to take in the features from that close. The man was tall and had blond, wavy hair that fell past his shoulders—it was damp, but the large, black hood he had one was keeping most of his face dry. He had a handsome face and thoughtful blue eyes studied him and Arthur in quick succession; the stubble on the man's jaw helped make him look a bit less girly. The man shook his head and got back up, becoming a hazy blur along with all the others. Alfred felt Arthur grab his hand tight as they were hauled to their feet by an enormous man with short blond hair and glasses.

"Too young to be Marshalls, _non_? They look younger than Tino even." The man, the captain, had a cultured, smooth accent that Alfred recognized immediately as French.

"Then what the fuck are they doin' up here in the middle of a storm?" Another tall blur, with crazy, spiked blond hair even Alfred could make out under the hood, asked loudly.

"Well, perhaps for the same reason as us, _mes amis_. Regardless, take them aboard the ship, can't have thieves hunting after our lightning." The captain turned away, and the last thing Alfred knew before the sharp press to his neck was how tightly Arthur was still holding his hand. Then, nothing.

TBC...

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><p>Reviews save lives!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Star-Crossed (6/10)  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3__

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<strong>_

_Chapter 6: Pirates_

Things likely look very bleak at this point in the story, yes? There have been even more deaths, the Babylon candle was used up, and our two heroes have been captured by seemingly nefarious sky pirates—but remember, not everything is always as it seems.

Now, Alfred had been unconscious for most of the next part of the story, but Arthur had not—the pirates obviously did not find a man in nothing but a bathrobe very intimidating and hadn't rendered him unconscious as well. It was dark and stormy, but he was still able to take in the skyship and the huge wing-like nets protruding from either side of the ship that were collecting in lightning from the storm. The large man, who he heard the other pirates call Berwald, easily carried Alfred's full bulk over his shoulder and still maintained a strong, controlling grip on Arthur. Still in shock from witnessing murder and almost being murdered, Arthur didn't put up much of a fight as he was dragged down into the brig of the ship; it wasn't until Alfred had been dropped unceremoniously on the ground and the thick door slammed shut with the click of a lock that he seemed to snap back to himself.

He stormed over to the door and began pounding as loud as he could, screaming at the pirates in every language he knew curse words in (which was quite a lot). He heard nothing in response to all the noise he made though, and eventually, he feared that the only harm he was doing was to his own hands. So he stopped. He backed into a wooden wall and sank down, curling up his legs to his chest and resting his head against his knees, despair and hopelessness beginning to overrun his mind again. He took a deep, shaking breath and tried to calm himself down, tried to not think about what would happen to him and Alfred now, or worse, what the pirates would do if they discovered what he was.

Alfred—Arthur still couldn't believe that after everything, he had come to help him, had all but rescued him from that maniacal witch and was doing it despite all logical sense that screamed to stay as far away from Arthur as possible. And he was expecting nothing in return from the star, nothing but except meet his 'lady love' on the other side of the wall, and frankly, Arthur was not sure that was worth all the trouble Alfred was going through to keep him safe. And still, Alfred did it—Arthur shook his head and tried not to think about how his heart started to beat faster when he remembered Alfred standing in front of him at that inn, how he burned his own hand to get them away safely. He blinked as he remembered that Alfred's hand was hurt and he crawled over to where Alfred lay, still unconscious, on the floor.

Arthur turned the young man over, he couldn't really think of him as a boy after all that had happened, and he stared into the smooth, still face. He glanced down at the hand before taking it gently into his own and noticed that though they looked a little pink, they were otherwise unharmed—that was a bit odd considering how long Alfred had kept that hand in the fire while lighting the candle. But Arthur was coming to the understanding that Alfred was an odd man, by both Earth and Stormhold standards. He set the hand back down and reached forward to tentatively brush back the wet, blond hair from Alfred's forehead, blinking down at the strong nose and jaw, the glasses titled unevenly on his nose, the smooth, unblemished skin. Alfred didn't need to open his eyes for Arthur to picture the too-vibrant blue that would have stared back at him, nor did he need to see the unguarded and honest smile to envision what it would look like if directed at him.

It is plain for anyone to see that Arthur, despite his thoughts to the contrary and his loud and constant refrain about returning home, was realizing something rather important about Alfred and what he meant to Arthur. It was more than just Alfred's rescue or how he managed to make Arthur feel so angry or annoyed or so _anything_ all the time—it was a scary thought for him so he drew his hand back and pressed it to his heart, willing his breathing to slow down, trying to force away the sudden rush of feelings that confused everything. Luckily for him, Alfred began to stir to alertness at just that moment; Arthur helped him sit up and discussed their rather serious situation at hand as he blinked awake, though how much Alfred retained was dubious. Arthur was mainly talking to avoid thinking or feeling, however, so he didn't really care if Alfred followed the conversation.

You will be delighted to know, however, that while the captain and his rough looking crew may have seemed nothing but trouble, they were actually a rather kind group of men and one woman who found it fascinating that Alfred was from the other side of the wall. Especially the captain, Francis Bonnefoy, who had murmured to Alfred wistfully how he had loved the stories of Napoleon and France as a boy and always knew them to be real. Francis explained that due to the nature of their work, being pirates and all, they had a certain reputation to uphold and always had to put on their 'game face' when meeting new people. After reassuring the pair that neither he nor his crew had any intention of tossing them overboard, he agreed to help them reach the wall—so moved by the 'romance' of Alfred's tale he said when asked why he would do that for free for people he barely knew.

Alfred didn't understand why Francis kept looking at Arthur when he said that though—don't worry though, loves. He'll catch up eventually.

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><p>"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand why you think I need a haircut." Arthur suppressed a smile as he watched Francis guide Alfred onto a stool and produced a towel with flourish and a wink. The captain as neither as fearsome nor intimidating as he had first come across—he was a hopeless, romantic fool who liked to quote poetry and had quarters decorated as if they belonged to a woman. Arthur snorted to himself as he recalled a scant few hours ago he had been afraid of this man; he was serving tea though and was offering them a free ride to the wall so he kept his thoughts to himself. Arthur wasn't sure why he didn't like the captain, he just knew he didn't—Angelique, the first mate, told him that was normal.<p>

"You need a haircut because you look so very bedraggled, Alfred, very naïve–errand boy. You want to impress your love, yes? You want to show your love how confident you are and what a better choice you would be, yes?"

"Well, yeah but—"

"Then you must look the part! I promise you will not be disappointed." Francis gave an embarrassed Alfred a winning wink as he wet the blond hair and began to make small, confident snips here and there. Arthur watched, still dressed in his bathrobe, and tried to suppress the heartache and annoyance he felt crop up his throat at mention of Mei—he was getting sick of hearing about her all the bloody time. He glanced back up when Francis cleared his throat and followed the head bob Francis gave him towards a large closet full of clothes, both men's and women's funnily enough. "And you, well, there's certainly no hope for your hair, but I have quite a few outfits that should fit nicely, I wore them as a younger man and hate to throw anything away."

Arthur scowled, not pleased by the insult to his hair. "I'm fine, thank you."

"_Angelterre_, you are wearing a bathrobe. Please, go pick something out or I'll have Soren do it for you." Arthur huffed, not liking the stupid nickname the captain had given him one bit, but got up and stomped over towards the closet. There was no way he was letting the pole-axe psycho pick out clothes for him. He heard Francis chuckle and murmur to Alfred. "He is a fiery one, _non_?"

Alfred laughed back and voiced his agreement—the only thing that kept Arthur from throwing something at the pair of them was the fondness in Alfred's voice when he agreed. That made Arthur flush pink and he grumbled to himself as he rifled through the clothes hanging in the closet. Most of the choices he rejected straightaway since there'd be no way he could wear shirts with full backs to them with his wings—they were invisible and folded down flat, but still solid. There were some shirts near the back that might do better though—he picked at one, dark green in color with a black design woven into the thin, loose material of the shirt. The neckline was high and would fit somewhat like a collar might and it didn't have sleeves; the back of the shirt was what appealed to him though. There was a loose slit down the middle that went the full length of the shirt; it was perfect for his wings. He held it up to the light and tried to determine if it was truly a man's shirt.

"Bonnefoy, are these sleeveless shirts in the back for men? You have a rather large, discerning amount of women's clothing in here and I want to be sure of what I'm picking!"

The captain chuckled and shouted back. "Ah, you are looking at the hunting garb worn by the tribes on the southern seas—I assure you they are very much for men. They are usually worn during ceremonial hunts for boy who become men—I admit, the design was so unique, I bought quite a few off the tribesmen when we were there last. Sadly, they do not fall on me properly—you are shorter than I am so they should work quite nicely for you, _Angelterre_."

Arthur was still dubious on the shirt, but it wasn't as if he could take a normal tunic and cut holes in the back without revealing why he needed to. He grabbed it along with a pair of black trousers and some under clothes. He dress quickly and stepped back out once full dressed, liking the freedom in movement he had with the pants; the shirt was perfect for his wings, poking out from the slit in the shirt and folded against his back comfortably. He was barefoot, as his sandals had been lost back at the inn, but he hoped he could find a pair of boots from someone on board—Francis' looked too big for his feet. Francis was wiping stray hair off of Alfred's shoulders and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat for a moment when Alfred turned to face him.

Alfred had looked attractive before with the somewhat boyish hair, but now, with the hair cut attractively to fit his face, he looked older, more mature, and devastatingly handsome. Alfred grinned and played with the shorter hair in the back, tilting his head with a shy look at Arthur while Francis hummed behind him. "Does it look all right? He kept doing weird things with the scissors…I swore my hair looked longer than his a few times, which is weird because my hair wasn't long before."

Arthur had a hard time finding words. "It—that is—yes, yes it looks quite—lovely."

Alfred's grin widened and he turned to say thanks to Francis; Arthur shook his head and tried to push back the embarrassed flush he felt on his face. "Awesome—why don't you have any shoes on?"

"They looked too big, the ones in there." Arthur gestured vaguely towards the closet.

Francis clucked his tongue and gave Arthur an indulgent smile. "I will have something for you. Alfred, you come too, your clothes are ruined. And even if they weren't, I'd still throw them out."

A few hours later, Alfred was dressed in clean, polished clothes, looking a hundred times more mature than when he'd tackled Arthur to the ground in a crater, and the skyship was pulling up to a port on a cliff side. Francis told them they had business dealings with a merchant there who had no qualms about handing volatile items, which lightning qualified as. Arthur was nervous being around so many people for the first time since he'd fallen, but Alfred had sidled up alongside him and given him a reassuring grin. It was completely ridiculous what that one smile did to calm him down—Arthur was wishing he could just go back to his blind loathing of the young man. It was so much easier when he thought he hated the moron.

The port was busy, but the pirates knew their way around and navigated the streets seamlessly—only a few of the crew were with the captain and Angelique. Tino, who was the friendliest man Arthur had ever seen or met, was walking beside him and engaging him in small, friendly chatter. He didn't seem annoyed or suspicious by any of the simple questions Arthur couldn't help himself from asking. Toris, a quiet, slim young man who manned the tiller usually, was walking beside Alfred—the two had bonded quickly and were becoming fast friends. Behind Arthur, Soren and Nikolai walked, loaded entirely with weapons and gear—Soren didn't shut up and Nikolai didn't say a word. They were an odd pair. Francis clapped his hands when they arrived outside a dingy looking building and Angelique motioned everyone inside after Francis flounced in, checking outside once everyone entered before she shut the door and latched it.

There were so many different odd, exotic things to look at, Arthur was having trouble focusing on any one spot—Alfred let out an impressed whistle that agreed with Arthur's thoughts. A burly man with dark hair done up in thick braids atop his head lumbered out and he looked at Francis' smile with a scowl. "Yer back again? Hoped some King's Patrol woulda shot ya down by now."

"And it is always a true pleasure to see you again, Alejandro. I promise we 'ave come bearing only the finest quality lightning." Arthur let his attention drift as the captain began to haggle with the large merchant. His eyes came to rest on Alfred, who was looking at a jar of something that glowed and moved with rapt attention near the back with Toris. He snapped his eyes away and hovered close to a stand that was fully of small puff balls that seemed to blink up at him. That was when he heard it.

"You heard anythin' about this fallen star? Whole market's talkin' about it—says it fell three days past. You git yer hand on one of 'em, and we could close up shop, git yerself a whole fleet of ships."

Arthur felt his breath catch and he turned his head quickly to make sure his wings were still invisible. When he looked back around, he found Francis' eyes resting on him before he grinned and turned back to the merchant. "Which market are you talking about, _mon ami_? Not the one by the wall?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, well can't trust any of that gossip you know. Full of cutpurses and liars who would do anything to make a sale—oh, and speak of the devil! Bridget, how lovely to see you again!" Francis turned from Alejandro to address a haggard looking blond woman who smiled thinly when she saw Francis. Arthur backed away, more wary than ever, and ran smack into Alfred who was coming back from the other way. Alfred blinked at him quizzically and straightened him back up, his hand lingering on his shoulder just long enough for Arthur to wish it would come back.

"You all right there, Artie?"

Arthur stared up into blue eyes, blue eyes that loved someone else and were the kindest things Arthur had ever known in all his years. "Fine, I'm fine. Just lost my footing is all."

Alfred smiled and accepted the answer, following Toris as he and the other started making their way out of the shop, the captain calling that his business was concluded. Arthur followed after, his mind whispering only one word to him all the way back to the skyship.

_Liar._

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><p>Matthew was not happy to find his brother dead, throat slashed, in the middle of a dirt road. Yes, he had murdered his own brothers, and was planning to do the same to Ludwig, but it was a different matter entirely for someone other than a royal son of Stormhold to kill a prince. It was treason and a blatant disregard for the family that had ruled Stormhold for centuries. His quest for the necklace would have to wait—honor demanded he avenge his brother's death first and Matthew had every intention of doing just that. He glared down at his brother's corpse for another moment more before he turned on his heel and marched toward the young man his men had captured from the burned wreckage of a building that was reduced to cinders.<p>

Matthew doubted the terrified man who kept trying to tell everyone his name was James and not Jaime had anything to do with his brother's death directly, but he knew that there was a reason he was unconscious in this wreckage as well. The entire area reeked of magic—Matthew could almost taste it in the air. A witch or warlock had done this; that much Matthew knew for sure, but he needed to know why. Witches and warlocks were generally considered laws unto themselves but they still respected the order of men—if there was a reason one had killed his brother, Matthew wanted to know what it was. The man was pale and had dark, curly hair—he was maybe a few years older than Matthew was and was definitely bigger, but shivering and restrained on his knees, he looked small and pathetic.

He knelt down to meet the man's eyes, not glancing up once as some of his men gathered up his brother's body, making sure the man knew that he had a prince's undivided attention. "I want to know who you were here with and why. And I want you to tell me quickly and honestly—believe me, I will know if you're lying."

The man stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before words began tumbling out of his mouth. "It was a woman—a, a witch! She turned me into a girl and she set a trap for the guy—she wanted to eat his heart and then your brother came and the witch, she killed him. Then a unicorn crashed through the window and this other guy showed up and lit a candle, then they were gone and the witch she screamed and screamed and left—I turned back into a man and I swear, my Lord, I don't know where she went, probably to hunt them!"

Matthew tuned out the rest of the rambling and pleading, his mind coming to rest on one thing—a witch wanted to eat the heart of a man, a man whose trap his brother had stumbled upon. No, not just a man, a star—it was the only thing that would drive a witch to commit acts of treason. So, the rumors were true and a star had fallen; Matthew stood back up and made a gesture to his men to let the man go. That certainly simplified things—to find the witch who had slain Ludwig, he'd have to find the star. He had no doubt that was the only path the witch would be taking; stars were too valuable to just let go of after one attempt. Matthew felt into his robes and pulled out the runes he'd taken off of the soothsayers, rolling them over in his hand. He needed to find the witch—the necklace would have to wait.

"Do we go north to find the star?" He tossed the runes high.

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><p>The next few days passed with relative calm, and Arthur was happy for it. He genuinely liked most of the crew, with the exception of Francis and Soren, and he enjoyed flying in the skyship, helping even when they caught lightning. Being so high above the ground made him feel closer to home in some ways—but he oddly didn't feel that homesick anymore. At least, not as badly as he had before, where his desire to go home surpassed nearly every other thought and made his stomach turn. Now the idea of leaving Alfred made his stomach turn, and that was utterly ridiculous because it wasn't logical that he felt so strongly for the idiot after a botched rescue attempt and a bit of kindness. It didn't make sense and was completely inconvenient and Arthur wanted to stop feeling like he needed to smile like a loon every time Alfred sent that soft look of his over his way!<p>

It was nighttime and the ship was bathed in a soft, golden light from the various lamps set up throughout the deck. Francis was dancing gracefully with Angelique to the soft cant of music and Alfred was sitting with Soren and Tino off to the side. The two crew members were showing Alfred how to properly polish the elegant long knife Francis had been training him with for the past few days. It was strange how quickly Alfred had picked up how to use the long knife and how skillful he became with it after a few short lessons, but Arthur accepted that was just another oddity about Alfred. He came from the other side of the wall—he thought it had something to do with being a child of both worlds, but now he was thinking there may have been something else special about him. Arthur realized he was staring and he glanced away when Alfred looked up and gave him a friendly wave.

Arthur was so deep into his musings that he didn't realize Francis standing before him until his hand wrapped around his own and pulled him to his feet. He looked startled for a moment but then settled his eyes into a glare when Francis led him to the center of the deck, placing one hand on his hip and holding the other near his shoulder. He heard Angelique snicker from the side. "I don't dance."

"Of course you don't, that is why I am going to teach you. One should always know how to dance, you never know when it might come in handy."

Clarification was obviously needed. "I don't want to dance with you."

"_Angelterre_, you are hardly my first choice either, but I don't think _your_ first choice will be a very good teacher." Francis smirked and flitted his eyes over towards Alfred—Arthur felt his cheeks flush and he ducked his head. Francis chuckled and began to move with the music, dragging Arthur along with him. Arthur didn't much care for dancing; he wasn't very good at it and it seemed cumbersome and pointless. He kept glancing down at his feet while Francis led them in a slow waltz across the ship's deck. Francis, smarmy bastard he was, was a decent dancer and gently corrected Arthur when he stepped the wrong way or tried to start leading out of turn. When Francis whirled them around quicker than Arthur was prepared, he swore and smacked Francis' shoulder in annoyance. Francis hummed in obvious amusement—and then he leaned in closer and placed his mouth close to Arthur's ear.

"_Angelterre_, I think it is time that we put an end to your concerns and fears—we know what you are. You are a star." Arthur felt his insides go cold and his steps faltered; he glanced over to where Alfred was obliviously polishing his damn knife. "You have no need to be afraid, none on this ship will harm you, though there are many who would."

"And why are you so noble to not count yourselves among them?" Arthur hissed, not reassured by Francis' gentle, amused voice.

"Probably for the same reason your Alfred is—I cannot see the point in destroying something as rare as a star for selfish purposes. I can only imagine what sort of damnation one would reserve for themselves in doing so. Besides, I am a romantic despite my 'orrible reputation—there is nothing so, pardon the pun, star-crossed as a star in love."

"I—I don't know what you're talking about, you idiot! I'm not in love or-or—" Arthur trailed off in quiet, hopeless mutterings and decided he needed to strengthen his abilities in lying quite badly.

"Oh please, _Angelterre_, do not play dumb. Your emotions give you away—I suspect it is not often people start _glowing _when given a smile or touch from a young man. It is what tipped us off to your, ah, _nature_ to begin with. You should learn to control them, your emotions, if you wish to keep yourself a secret a bit longer. You've begun glowing brighter every day, and we know why."

England huffed and rolled his eyes mockingly up at Francis, not comfortable that the pirate and his crew knew he was a star, but starting to feel more trustworthy that he wasn't about to cut out his heart any time soon. Control his emotions…not bloody likely. And he was not dignifying Francis', admittedly correct, assumptions regarding why he was glowing more often—it was mortifying enough for him to deal with the knowing smirk he wore as it was. "Well of course I'm glowing, I'm a star as you so astutely pointed out. And what do stars do best?"

Francis let out a pained groan as Arthur, somewhat deliberately, stepped on his foot during a turn. "Well it certainly isn't the waltz."

Arthur opened his mouth to give an equally scathing reply regarding Francis' terrible grooming habit, because stubble was not romantic, it was sloppy, but a figure stepped up to Francis and motioned to step in. Arthur blinked up at Alfred, who was grinning a little sheepishly and took the warm hand proffered to him without a sound. Francis gave a little chuckle and bowed gracefully as he left, letting Alfred step in to continue dancing in one smooth motion. Arthur took a deep breath and ducked his head to keep his face from view, knowing that he was shining with his Light but unable to help it.

"You're so bad at this, Artie!" It was different when Alfred teased him, different from when Francis teased, or Angelique, or anyone else on the crew—he didn't feel the same urge to stomp on feet. Instead, he gripped Alfred's hand tighter and simply gave him an unimpressed glare that had too much of a smile behind it to be considered threatening.

"You are hardly one to talk. It's not as if I walked around all that much back home—were you born with two left feet?"

Alfred laughed and slowed down a little as he and Arthur just sort of rocked on the deck, a few of the other crew members joining in on the dancing alongside them. It was—it was incredibly intimate and confused the fuck out of Arthur because weren't they traveling back to Wall so Alfred could marry some girl? That had been what brought Alfred to Stormhold initially; did it still hold true? Arthur blinked and tried not to look like a completely besotted idiot; he was sure he failed. "I'm still better than you."

Arthur did not argue that point and gave a stifled nod, not trusting his voice.

"Why do you wear that thing?" Arthur glanced down to where Alfred pointed at and looked at the large, gaudy necklace that had caused him to fall. "Can't really imagine why anyone would want to wear it. I guess it makes a good weapon in a pinch though! You could totally knock someone out with it if you hit 'em in the head!"

Arthur couldn't help the brief smile Alfred's words elicited out of him. "It is rather awful, isn't it?"

"And huge."

"Mmm. I don't know why I'm wearing it. It certainly caused a whole lot of trouble though, seems best to keep an eye on it for now. No better way to do that than wearing it."

"I guess." Alfred shrugged and touched the thick gold chain about Arthur's neck curiously—Arthur stared up at him and wished those fingers were touching him for a fleeting moment. "This is what made you fall, right?"

Arthur nodded. He glanced around at the crew around them, still nervous about talking about how he was a star so openly. Alfred caught his glance and gave his hand a comforting squeeze that felt better than any kindly spoken platitudes given to him by Francis or even his crew. "Francis told you they all know, right? Tino said he was gonna—it's pretty awesome though, right? Proof that not everyone here sucks and is out to murder you!"

Alfred gave him a big, hopeful grin and Arthur felt a ridiculous urge to tilt up the small distance between their heights and press their lips together. Stars didn't kiss like human did, mostly because they had no reason to since all other stars were brothers and sisters, but he had watched them long enough to know how it was done. But that would just cause problems, Arthur knew that. Arthur wanted to go home, he did, and Alfred wanted Mei—kissing would just complicate things terribly and Arthur was sure it probably wasn't as exciting as he had made it out to be in his head.

He envisioned for a moment him confronting Alfred about his feelings for Mei and whether they were the same as what he felt for him. Alfred would sputter and blush and probably get uncomfortable, but Arthur would push and push until Alfred realized that he didn't deserve some girl who made him traverse a whole world in search of a gift to prove his love. Some girl who was doing nothing to show Alfred how she felt about him. He would tell Alfred about how he watched mankind for centuries and saw love in all shapes and sizes; that he knew it was unconditional and unbearable, exhilarating and hard, and strangely easy to mistake for loathing. He would tell Alfred that, as crazy as the very idea was, he just might be falling in love with Alfred and would want nothing from him in return aside from knowing that he had his heart in exchange for his own. And then, maybe Alfred would realize what was right in front of him and then staying earthbound wouldn't be so lonely and awful. They would have each other and it would be better than every dream Arthur had ever had in all his years of watching.

He didn't say anything though. Instead, he swallowed dryly and ducked his head down as they swayed on top the skyship's deck to the soft music. It would pass, he told himself as he rocked slowly with Alfred. Once he was home, it would pass—it would have to.

TBC...

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><p>Soren= Denmark<br>Angelique= Seychelles  
>Nikolai = Norway<br>Alejandro = Cuba...I've stolen most of these names from Silence and Thievery you've noticed XD

Review please, if you read and liked!


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Star-Crossed  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Note: This is something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, comments are love 3

Note 2: I am sooooooooo sorry this is late. There's been a lot of family stuff, bf stuff, kidney infection stuff, going on and I haven't had a chance to post this yet! Please forgive me! I hope you all enjoy!__

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<strong>_

_Chapter 7: Rabbits_

I am sure you must feel some anger on Arthur's behalf at this point, and how could you not? Heartache is a painful thing to see and watch; it is something that you will either feel in the future or already have felt, and can sympathize what a terrible thing it is. But I must remind you, as terrible and sad as it is to watch Arthur long and pine for Alfred, who remains oblivious to the star's obvious affections in a way only a young man can, Arthur is not blameless in this scenario. As great a tragedy as it is that Alfred cannot see what is plainly before him, Arthur's reluctance to speak his feelings and lay bare his heart is as much to blame. After all, Alfred is not the most perceptive of blokes, otherwise he would never have agreed to something as silly as finding a star for a girl who teased him.

But that is neither here nor there. The story would not be nearly as interesting if they both came to their senses so soon. What _is_ here and there, though, is that there is quite a lot of chasing going on. Alfred is chasing after a girl who could care less about him. Arthur is chasing after home and Alfred, though who can tell which is more important to him at this point. Natalia is chasing after a star and a chance to bring love back from beyond. And Matthew is chasing a witch who is after a star—he is chasing after a necklace as well, I suppose, but it's certainly taken a back seat in importance, hasn't it? Most of these you were already well aware of, as they have been unfolding before your eyes, but there is another tale of chasing that is equally as important, though not happening amongst all the excitement.

Alfred's mother could also be said to be chasing something, though what that something is can be tricky explaining. Surely she was chasing her freedom, as any sane person bound in captivity against his or her will was bound to do, but she was chasing something larger than that. She certainly didn't speak of it to her master, as it involved her past and Bridget Oakbark wanted nothing to do with that and Alfred's mother hated her master so wouldn't tell her anyway. She didn't speak of it to strangers or those who pitied her situation as they were likely not to believe it. She didn't even speak much of it to herself as it was dangerous if something went wrong, and hope was best nurtured quietly, she told herself. But yes, she was chasing something more than freedom.

She was chasing family: lost and present, old and new. Giving Alfred the Babylon candle had only been part of that chase and a more recent addition at that. She had intended to keep her little boy, you see; that statement had not been an empty cliché given to a boy she wouldn't see grow up. She needed him with her, more than the natural instinct of a mother to have her child nearby—he was the start of the motions that could bring her freedom. And with that freedom, she was free to chase the rest of her dreams.

The whys and hows of that are still too tangled up in our story though and would give too much away if I told you everything right now. I just wanted to remind you that even though you haven't seen her for very long, Alfred's mother is especially important in what is to come.

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><p>Natalia was not happy. She was growing older by the second; the star's Light had only granted her a small reprieve from nature and was not strong enough to counteract the amount of magic she had used since she began her hunt. She had lost the newest star, as her sisters were so quick to remind her, and each time she checked her runes, the reply was always the same—the star was airborne. She had been so close and then that damn prince had ruined everything; the only consolation she had from the entire Inn-debacle was that she had managed to kill the unicorn that had protected the star and took its horn. It would fetch a good price in any market, though the merchants would never advertise such a thing—she hoped enough of a price to hide her from the remaining prince of Stormhold's wrath. The rumors of Prince Matthew's cunning and ruthlessness were well known—and any man who'd been strong enough to kill her beloved as a boy was someone to be wary of.<p>

Natalia felt no remorse or regret over killing the blond prince, even though he was technically kin of her beloved. She knew the tradition of Stormhold heirs and the killing of princes…she knew it well. That damnable tradition had been what stole her beloved away, and he would have made a marvelous king with her by his side. No, no regret; but it was troublesome because as powerful and set apart as witches and warlocks were, killing a prince was still a death sentence for them if caught. Not that she'd be caught so easily, but it did make hunting for the star harder when she could not wander the streets and markets freely. Especially now that word of the fallen star was starting to spread amongst the other witches and warlocks and from them to the merchants and common-folk.

She brushed back a thin strand of hair and did not look at her reflection in the coach window, a coach she had taken the liberty of removing from a dead prince's possession. She knew she wouldn't like what she found there and could only hope that there was enough of the star left after it brought her beloved back to restore some of her beauty. He deserved a beautiful queen by his side, not a weathered hag. She felt a white-hot stab of anger run through her as the star crept back into her mind. She had had it, had _him_, in her hands, completely relaxed and unaware of what was to come and it had all been ruined! She frowned as the events of that night filtered through her mind again—there was one factor she still could not explain and it infuriated her that it was kept from her Sight.

That boy. The boy that had crashed through the window with the unicorn and had flung himself in front of the star, and used the remnants of a Babylon candle to transport them both away from her. She had not been told by the runes or her sisters' divinations that the star had already been found, that it had met someone who was so obviously willing to risk death for it. That troubled her, that this boy was somehow outside her realm of control and he had aligned himself with the star's wellbeing. Hunting the star on its own had not been much a concern for her, but with a protector at its side…that complicated things.

The coach rolled to a stop, the horses breathing hard and shuffling outside the carriage she was brooding in. She pulled her hood up to cover most of her ravaged face and exited the coach, glancing up Cliffside to where the port town for skyships the runes had pointed her to. She flicked a coin at a pair of street children who were tending the roadside lift and left them to tend to her exhausted horses as she made her way to the lift that would take her up Cliffside and to the city. The operator was a Brother, not in the same sect but one nonetheless, and he nodded to her in acknowledgment before he closed the gates and channeled magic into the metal and pulleys that operated the lift. The Brother was young, younger than most she met and she assumed he was still apprenticing; his dark eyes and unusually thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he powered the lift. She studied his clothing and assumed based on the exotic colors and the slanted eyes, he was from the east.

They arrived atop the cliff and she exited without a glance back at the young warlock—there was a shop here, the runes had whispered to her, a shop that the star had stopped in. She would find out not only where the star was headed, but more about the boy who was protecting it. She wandered for a candlemark or so but as she passed by a dingy, closeted shop off the beaten path, she knew she had arrived at her destination. She smiled, hard and fleeting, and stepped into the shop, taking in the ramshackle shelves and illegal wares lining the walls; the owner, a large man with dark skin, stepped out and appraised her frankly.

"Yer lost, woman? Don't got any potions or herbal creams in 'ere." She stared at him dispassionately and fished out a large, gold coin that could easily have bought half the shop's goods. The ones that showed at least.

"I'm looking for something, someone actually, and I have it on good authority he was here." The merchant stared at the gold coin with undisguised surprise and made to grab it. Natalia snatched it back and tilted her head to the side as if the merchant were a child. "Ah, ah, no goodies unless you prove helpful to me. Do you think you can?"

"Dunno, lotsa folks wander in 'ere. Would help if ya knew a name."

"I don't have a name. I'm looking for two people, both young men and blond, one with glasses and the other with large eyebrows and green eyes. They would have been traveling together."

The merchant's eyes lit up in recognition and Natalia's heart sang. "Oh yeah, I know 'em. Pair o' kids came in with Cap'n Bonnefoy, flies the _Joan de' Arc,_ two days ago. The one with the eyebrows was twitchy, but the Cap'n kept him close—the other boy nearly destroyed a stand of salamander eyes. Headed towards Market-town by the wall, Bonnefoy said. Somethin' about a birthday."

"You're sure? Absolutely sure? Sure that you're not lying for your dear captain?"

"Cap'n ain't no friend of mine, just brings decent lightnin'. Wouldn't lie for him and don't know those other two—they be heading towards Market-town."

Natalia studied him for a moment, feeling the words for truth just to be sure, before she flicked the coin at him and gave a curt nod of thanks. The merchant snatched it out of the air and gave her a stiff bow that may or may not have been mocking—if it was, Natalia didn't much care. She had to leave; she had to get to Market-town as quickly as possible. She whirled out of the closeted shop and made her way back to the lift, strides long and hurried; they were headed to the blasted wall! The boy may not know what happened if stars crossed, and the star likely had no idea either, as they fell so rarely—if the star crossed the wall into earth-side soil, it would become nothing but a heap of metallic rock!

The young warlock was still there when she returned to the lift, playing with what looked like a collection of fireworks until he spotted her storming up. Natalia lifted a hand in negation to wave off any of his excuses about having to wait for specific times to take the lift down Cliffside. "I will pay you triple your normal rate, take this lift down now. I am on urgent business that cannot wait."

The warlock studied her for a moment before he took the gold and nodded his quiet assent. The lift creaked and came to life as it began to lower back to the ground and all Natalia could think about was reach Market-town and the wall before it was too late and all her hard work was lost. She had to, for her beloved.

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><p>Arthur was holding onto the railing of the skyship for dear life as Francis guided it down, most unsteadily and dangerously, to a landing on a large lake south of the Market-town. Alfred was right beside him, but was smiling and whooping in excitement as the ship made its shaky descent, as if it were some wild ride and not a ship crashing to the ground and an imminent fiery death. He had thought Angelique to be exaggerating when she shuddered at the thought of Francis flying the ship, but she had not been. Not one bit. Arthur clenched his eyes shut as the ship hit the lake with a loud smack and water whooshed up in huge waves, getting nearly all the deck and crew wet. Arthur wiped the water off his face and glanced over at Alfred, who had taken off his glasses and was shaking his hair out of his face.<p>

Arthur glanced away when he caught himself starting to go slack from his staring.

"That was awesome! Did you see how the water just whooshed up, Artie? Man, that was so cool—don't know why they don't let Francis fly more often, that was great!"

Arthur grimaced and steadied himself against the railing for a moment. "Yes, absolutely spiffing."

Alfred grinned and grabbed his elbow gently. "You've got wings and can fly and _that_ bothered you?"

"I know how to use my wings, thank you very much. I can't blame the crew for not letting Bonnefoy at the helm that often if that's what they are subjected to."

"Whatever, it wasn't that bad. And we landed all right, right?" Arthur shrugged his arm out of Alfred's hold as they started walking down the deck and towards the gangway. He loved Alfred's hands, and he loved how they felt touching his skin, but it was becoming a necessity to his sanity to create space between them. Especially when everything was still so muddled and Arthur was warring with himself and his desire to go home and his longing to stay with Alfred as long as he'd let him. He gave Alfred, who was looking at the space Arthur put between them with an odd expression, a small nod in agreement, letting the conversation end.

They were both in new clothes and had spares in their packs, both of which had been supplied by from the crew and Francis. Arthur was more than a little disappointed to be leaving the crew—he had grown to like each and every member of Francis' crew and was grateful for their discretion regarding what he was. And even though Francis annoyed the hell out of him with his stupid accent and his stupid knowing looks, Arthur could admit that his kindness towards Alfred and himself was something they had desperately needed. He didn't know how to thank him, nor did he really want to say the words, so he let Alfred step forward and address Francis directly.

"You keep an eye on that one, you hear?" Angelique stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, mindful to not ruffle against his wings even though she couldn't see them. Arthur returned her tearful grin with a small smile of his own. "Don't let him just wander off into trouble!"

"If you need anything, just send us a missive from the post in Market-town," Tino chimed in.

"And if that hag shows up again, you let us know and we'll get down and show her a thing or two!" Soren fingered the edge of his giant axe as he slapped Arthur bracingly on the shoulder.

Arthur nodded and stepped onto the gangway as Berwald and Nikolai lowered it to create a walkway down to the path which would take them to Market-town. He turned and waved at the crew one more time and caught Francis whispering something to Alfred as he handed over a canister of lightning. They had helped catch that lightning two nights prior, and while it had seemed exceedingly dangerous, Arthur had to admit that he did like the thrill he got while doing it. Francis pulled away and patted Alfred on the shoulder, a smile on his face as he sent a wink Arthur's way.

"Think about it, _mon ami_, and be sure to stick to this path. It's a straight road into the Market-town."

"We will, don't worry!" Arthur nodded along with Alfred's words as they walked down the gangway and stepped onto solid ground.

"It has been an honor and pleasure to meet you both, but please, if anyone asks about your stay with the nefarious Captain Bonnefoy and the crew of the _Joan de Arc_, tell them how utterly terrible and frightening we are, will you? You know what they say about reputations, a life time to build, only seconds to destroy."

The crew let out hearty laughs and cheers before scurrying away and back to their duties on board before they could take off into the sky again. Alfred gave one more wave before he strapped the lightning canister across his shoulders and fell into step beside Arthur. He looked good in the clothes Francis had given to him, Arthur thought. Much better than what he had been wearing when they first met at any rate—the shirt and trousers were both simple in design but fit close to Alfred's body and emphasized his the lean planes of his limbs and muscles. The creams and blacks of the clothes played off well against the dark blue jacket he had on over, a simple, curling design stitched in along the lapels of the coat which lay open across his chest. He looked dashing and confident and Arthur really needed to learn to stop staring at him like a loon just because he cut a good figure in clothes that actually fit.

"So what did the captain say to you?"

Alfred glanced over at him from over the frames of his glasses, his eyes unreadable for a moment before he grinned broadly. "What do you mean?"

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look. "I mean just now, what did he whisper to you before we left the ship?"

Alfred chuckled softly and shrugged his shoulders; Arthur couldn't help but notice how his ears got red as he answered. "Oh, you know, just that we could use the lightning to get you a new bubbling candle. You know, barter for it."

"It's called a Babylon candle, Alfred, Babylon." Arthur couldn't help but return the smile Alfred gave him in response.

They walked along in comfortable silence for a time, and after a few hours, their legs sufficiently exhausted, they came upon a sign etched into stone. It marked down a forked path that it was eleven miles to a small town called Berth, but sixty miles to reach Market-town and the wall. Arthur stared at the sign for a moment before he turned troubled eyes to Alfred, who was also staring at the sign but not with the same sense of alarm. "How long will it take to walk sixty miles, Alfred?"

"I dunno, maybe a few days?"

"We don't have a few days, Mei's birthday is tomorrow."

Arthur turned back to the sign and worried his bottom lip—he missed the stunned expression and sort of breathless wonder that crossed over Alfred's face entirely. "That's—that's right. It is her birthday…kind of forgot about it."

Arthur shot him an incredulous look before they started down the path to Market-town. "How could you forget? It's only the one thing you've been chattering about since you found me in that crater."

Or, at least, it _had_ been. Thinking back over the past few days, Alfred had not mentioned Mei once, which Arthur had been grateful for. For numerous reasons. He rolled his eyes when Alfred continued to just stare into nothing and tugged at his arm to get him moving as well. "We're not going to get there any faster if you just stare in the middle of the road."

Alfred glanced up but then focused his eyes behind Arthur and the next thing he knew knew he was being tackled into a bush and a hand was cupping over his mouth to muffle his surprise. He blinked and found Alfred practically lying atop him on the ground, sunlight coming in dappled through the small space between the bush branches; his breath hitched in his throat and ghosted across Alfred's palm. Alfred made a shushing motion and lifted his hand off of Arthur's mouth, his attention towards the path behind them, where Arthur could see a carriage going past. He swallowed in an effort to wet his dry throat and relaxed the grip he had on Alfred's forearms.

"What are you—"

"I just don't want anyone to see us when we're alone." Their words were no more than whispered breaths in the small space between. "I mean, I just don't trust anyone, not after that inn lady. I—I don't want you to get hurt."

Arthur stared at him in quiet contemplation before the question he'd been wondering about for days came out. "Doesn't it tempt you?"

"What?"

"You know, immortality. There are people who are willing to do anything, or pay anything, for a chance at that. But you—you've known from the beginning and even after learning what people will do in this world for that, you've never even seemed to care."

Alfred met his eyes and shrugged as much as he could from his position over Arthur. "I just don't see the appeal—I mean, it'd be pretty lonely, wouldn't it? I guess if you had someone to share it with it wouldn't be so bad."

That was—such a naïve way of thinking it hardly made sense a man nearly grown was saying it, but because it was Alfred saying it, Arthur believed him. He could feel his Light flutter up and he looked away from Alfred's gaze, biting his lip to keep all the words he wanted to say quiet and to himself. Alfred glanced back behind them before he crawled off Arthur and back to his feet, holding out his hand for Arthur to take, helping him out of the bushes and back onto his feet. They straightened themselves out and began walking again, Alfred's eyes studying Arthur in a way that made him feel self-conscious.

"You know you kind of glow a bit, I just noticed."

"Well spotted, Alfred." He gave the young man a sardonic grin before he continued. "Let's think about it for a moment, what do stars _do_?"

"Um, attract trouble?" Arthur smacked him and Alfred chuckled as he held up his hands in surrender. "Kidding, kidding! Jeez, you don't have to hit so hard, you know. Can I guess again?"

Arthur arched his eyebrow at him and nodded his head shortly, a small smirk on his face. "All right."

"Ok…how about, they're best at knowing how to kill someone by food?"

"That was one time, Alfred! It's not like I've ever attempted cooking before!"

"Tell that to my taste buds, I don't think they'll ever be the same after those cookie things you made."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle along with Alfred, after he hit him again of course, and they continued walking in their comfortable silence for a time. When the next carriage came, Arthur heard it too and he ducked behind a large rock with Alfred—until he noticed the woman who was driving the garishly yellow caravan. It was the woman from the shop, the one that knew Francis and his crew; perhaps he wasn't really up for trusting random strangers, but she had a large wagon and they needed to get to wall. At least she was friends with the one group of people who had treated him kindly.

"I know her, she was in the shop at that port, Alejandro's shop. She knows Francis, I saw them talking."

"Really? What does that—wait, you want to go talk to her? So, you're saying we should just trust her, because Francis talked to her for like a minute? Are you trying to get your heart cut out?"

"She has a wagon, Alfred, she could get us to the wall quicker than walking, and we don't have a lot of options here."

Alfred met his stare, his eyes stormy and clearly unhappy, but he nodded after a harsh sigh and stepped out, keeping one hand on the pommel of his long knife. He made sure to stay in front of Arthur. It was sweet…a little unnecessary and gallant, but sweet. The woman looked up and cocked an eyebrow at them. "Oi, you there, mind getting out of the road? People got to use it."

"Oh yeah, well, I was kinda hoping that we could get a ride with you! Gotta get to the wall and we've—"

"That flower! That's my damn flower, been looking for that for eighteen years!" The witch hopped off the wagon and strode angrily towards Alfred, who pulled out the knife in one swift, confident motion, eyes wary. A green colored bird on the wagon was chirping loudly from its perch.

Arthur frowned and stepped forward angrily. "Excuse your rudeness, but that is his flower, it was a gift from his mother!"

The woman made no motion that she heard him and eyed the knife Alfred had out before she stepped back and tucked a messy piece of hair back under an orange headband. "My mistake, my mistake, it happens when you get older, boy."

Alfred glanced over at Arthur for a second before he put the sword away, eyes still wary and body still tense. "Ok I guess…it's obviously important to you though, so what if I traded this flower for a ride into market-town?"

The woman studied him for a moment before she grinned. "Fair enough trade. I'll even through in free food and lodging for your ride in."

"Really? Well that's great." Alfred beamed at Arthur, who was still confused as to why the woman hadn't so much as looked his way yet, and handed over the small, snowdrop flower he had tucked in his jacket pocket. The woman took it and gave him a patronizing look.

"You really had no idea what kind of thing you traded away, did you? Not that it matters, I keep my promises and I intend to get you to Market-town in the exact condition you are now. Just as a future note though, this little flower has a powerful protection enchantment on it, protection from magic that it is. In fact, it would've been the very thing that would have prevented me from doing this."

She poked Alfred on the nose and the next thing Arthur knew, Alfred was gone and a large, floppy-eared bunny was in his place. The woman clucked her tongue and picked up the rabbit gently, carrying it towards the back of her wagon—Arthur followed once his shock wore off and was replaced by white-hot anger, the likes of which he had never felt before. He tried to rush the woman, hit her, kick her, and yell at her, but it was if there was a barrier in between them and she could not see him at all. She opened the wagon doors and stepped inside, placing Alfred in a wire cage on the table.

"There you go, food and lodging, just like I promised." She clucked her tongue at Alfred the rabbit before shuffling back out of the wagon, brushing straight past a fuming Arthur without even a glance.

"If I'm correct in the assumption that you can neither see or hear me, then let me just say that you smell of piss, you look like something you'd puke up after a hard night, I believe birds could nest in that thing atop your head you likely call hair, and I swear if I don't get Alfred back the way he was, I will be your personal poltergeist. You may not be able to see me, but that doesn't prevent me from tearing your wagon to pieces!" The woman hummed to herself and Arthur had just a moment to hop in before she closed the doors; he fumed at the door until the wagon lurched back into motion, forcing him to steady himself onto a chair. "Bloody, fucking woman, I will ruin your sanity, I swear it, if you keep him a bloody rabbit!"

He received no response, apart from the bird's chirping, and sighed, turning his attention to the floppy eared rabbit. "Alfred? Alfred if you can understand me, give me some sort of sign. A hop or a nod or something."

Alfred the rabbit wiggled his nose and looked over his shoulder to where a small bushel of carrots was resting on a counter. Arthur groaned and broke off a small piece of one of the carrots and put it inside the cage through the bars. Alfred the rabbit took it immediately and began to nibble with single-minded determination, leaving Arthur to do nothing but stare at him in half-amused, half-mournful silence. He did a cursory glance about the wagon, at the small, narrow bed wedged on the opposite side of the kitchen area, at the heaps of dirty clothes and stacks of books in a corner. It was certainly not the lodgings one would expect for a woman—but any woman who looked like the witch did fit right at home with the caravan's messy state.

Arthur reached his fingers through the wire cage and stroked at the small bit of Alfred the rabbit he could reach, not bothering to hide the melancholy expression that he usually worked so hard to keep out of sight. He hadn't wanted to bother Alfred with his problems, not when he was already risking his life under threat of witches and warlocks to keep him safe. Besides, he may not have been on the ground very long, but he had watched long enough to know it was bad form to tell someone you were in love with them when they loved someone else. At least, it was bad form when the other person could understand you—Arthur looked at the rabbit and took a deep breath.

"This is completely mental…I'm confessing to a man turned into a rabbit that's more concerned about a carrot than anything else. But this—this is probably the only opportunity I'll have to say anything, and you're supposed to feel better after you've gotten what's troubling you out, right? Not that I would even know—stars aren't exactly closed off to our brothers and sisters—and we don't generally fall in love. That's as good of a way to say it I suppose; I have to say all those silly stories on demonstrations of devotions and spouting off ballads to declare your love are all quiet tedious. You should just say what they mean, not get lost in the spectacle of it all.

"I'm talking about you, you know, or I suppose you don't and it doesn't even matter because you're a rabbit who doesn't even understand what I'm saying at the moment, but it doesn't change it. I do, I love you and I have no idea why or even how it happened, but it's the only explanation why I feel the need to both kiss you senseless and beat your head in simultaneously. I may never have felt love before, but I've seen so much of it, Alfred, so much before I fell and—and it nearly kills me to think that after finally feeling what I always dreamt of, you don't even love me back. You love someone else, some girl that you wax on about how pale her skin and how shiny her hair is and it takes all that I am to not—I don't know, scream sounds much too dramatic. Something though."

Arthur sighed, pulled back his arms, and buried his head in his hands on the counter, not catching that the rabbit was no longer nibbling on his carrot, but watching him. "I don't even want to go home as much anymore. I mean I do, but I—fuck me, this is all wrong and I hate it and feeling this way and feeling that whenever I'm around you my heart just beats and beats so hard my chest can barely contain it. Like it doesn't belong to me anymore, like it's yours and the only thing that would make me happy is if you accepted it—and gave me yours in return of course because otherwise I'm miserable…and heartless. Christ, this is getting ridiculous; I'm not even making sense anymore!"

He lifted his face back up and swiped at his eyes and the wetness collecting there, a mix of frustration, sadness, and exhaustion, before he gave Alfred the rabbit a wan smile. "Well that was a crock of shit, I don't feel any better now that I said everything—oh well, not like it would have made any difference anyways. Maybe this is for the best, you'll return home and get your lass and I'll go home too and file all of this away as just a bad dream. Once you help me find a Babylon candle of course."

He sighed and rested his head back down, letting the push and pull of the caravan lull him to drowse—Alfred the rabbit, in his little cage beside him, crawled up close to the cage and rested his little nose against Arthur's fingertips as he fell asleep.

TBC...

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><p>apprentice warlock= Hong Kong<p>

Review and feed my starving ego :D


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Star-Crossed  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Note: This is something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3

Note 2: Favorite. Chapter. EVER. That is all, enjoy!

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<strong>_

_Chapter 8: Wings_

I am sure you want me to return immediately to Arthur and Alfred since their story has admittedly become very interesting, but unfortunately before I can, we must first turn our attention to Matthew, the last prince of Stormhold. All while Natalia has been chasing after Arthur, Matthew has been chasing after her, using the star, since it was more specific and easier for the runes to track, to do so. He sent his men back to the royal city to keep order in his name and continued after Natalia, whom he only knew as 'the witch' at this point, on his own. It was a matter of pride and honor, hunting down his brother's murderer, and he needed to do it alone. His men, well versed in the tradition of Stormhold royalty, had conceded and left him to his hunt—Matthew may have been on the smaller side and young, but they had been serving him long enough to know those two 'weaknesses' had not mattered in the many battles he'd won.

Now, Matthew knew that any witch strong enough to be chasing a star and strong enough to kill his brother, was not someone to be trifled with. He would need to be smart about hunting her, would need to not ask around for a witch meeting the goatherd's description but rather follow the star itself. The goatherd had given him a fairly decent account of what the star looked like and Matthew had decided it would be best if the witch thought he was chasing the star along with her, as opposed to her herself. She'd be less likely to hide herself that way, he reasoned, and more likely to make the one little mistake that would prove fatal to her. Matthew was always the sort to think ahead to the next step, it was what had kept him alive so long.

Matthew did not only think on the witch and revenge and somehow getting back on track with the damn necklace, because even though he was the last prince he still couldn't claim the throne without the damn stone restored. He thought, like anyone would, about the star. He didn't have interest in cutting out its heart like witches or warlocks might, and he also did not have interest in selling it as a prized slave to the highest bidder as a merchant would. His interest was mainly academic—you see, despite his murderous tendencies, Matthew was actually quite enamored with books and learning. It was where he got his most inventive assassination ideas. Ludwig may have been the one who touted his learnings and all the books he'd read, but Matthew believed that knowledge was most effectively kept as a secret until it suited your purposes to use it.

Stars fell so rarely and usually when they did, they were either killed gruesomely, or somehow paid their way back into the sky by use of a Babylon candle. Matthew understood the use of a star beyond an exotic pet or age-reversing snack—stars were old and eternal, they watched the worlds for all their lives and were untold wells of knowledge and history. He wanted to offer the star a deal, a deal for his protection from all dangers in Stormhold and a Babylon candle once Matthew was near the end of his life. He could only imagine how well he could rule and change Stormhold with a star acting as an advisor, sharing with him all the knowledge it had from centuries of watching. And he was confident the star would be so grateful to have royal immunity, it would leap at the chance to keep itself alive long enough to go back to the sky.

But that would all have to wait until he avenged his brother and killed the witch. So he traveled far and wide, following the runes as it led him down the same path as the star. He passed by inns and port towns with scrupulous merchants and large lakes. He spotted a skyship in the sky flying back the way he'd came and an old dirt path with two pairs of footprints. And eventually he found himself on the road towards Market-town. On a path that would bring his journey and mission in collision with everyone else.

Everything is coming together, isn't it?

* * *

><p>The caravan reached Market-town that evening, and the roads were bustling with patrons and shoppers when the doors opened; Arthur couldn't help but blink at the swath of color and noise. He hadn't been able to rest properly in the caravan, despite it being daytime and his exhaustion, and he felt anxiety grip his stomach as the dirty woman, <em>witch<em>, walked straight past Arthur and grabbed Alfred the rabbit from the wire cage. She smoothed back the floppy ears and set him down on the cobbled ground beside the caravan—Arthur stumbled out and watched her intently as the witch crouched down and grinned

"The wall is one mile that way," she pointed west, "though I'd wait until morning to try to make the journey if I were you. Transformation tends to leave the brain a bit scrambled."

She poked the rabbit's nose and then, in a puff of orange smoke, Alfred was restored to normal, though distinctly green in the face and stumbling to the ground when he tried to pull up his long knife. The witch cackled and shook her head as she made her way back to the front of her caravan, the white flower she had traded with Alfred tucked neatly into her robes. "I told you, didn't I, boy? Save your strength."

She snapped her reins and the horse pulling the caravan drove away and into the ever-shifting crowd. Arthur crouched down and placed his hands on Alfred's dazed face, turning it towards him with a look of concern, his wings instinctively fluttering against his back—he glanced back and blew a breath of relief that they were still invisible. "Alfred? Alfred are you all right? Can you stand at all?"

Alfred blinked his eyes upwards and grinned dopily at Arthur. "Oh, 'ello there—you got big eyebrows, Artie. Where's Mei?"

Arthur felt his stomach go cold and he swallowed before attempting to answer; his voice still came out rougher than he wanted though. "She's—she's still on the other side of the wall Alfred."

"Oh…that's good." He slumped back down and Arthur glared at him before he steadied his weight on his heels, wrapped Alfred's arm around his shoulders, and lifted them both off the ground, supporting Alfred as he walked unsteadily. "Wuzz goin' on? Where we goin'?"

"Oh shut up, you git. There's an inn over there—you need a good bath and a night's rest before you 'present' me to Mei tomorrow." Alfred made no response other than to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, his nose bumping into the side of his neck as they staggered to the inn, which was gruesomely named _The_ _Slaughtered Prince_. It was difficult to maneuver Alfred's body through the throng of people, but he managed it with minimal bumping and apologies; luckily, the door to the inn was open as someone exited and held it open for Arthur. The innkeeper looked a little drunk and stared at them questioningly as they walked in through the doors.

"Your friend party a bit too hard, there?"

"That would be putting it lightly. Is there a room available? Just for the night?"

The innkeeper nodded and waved them over—Arthur plopped Alfred into one of the chairs in the lobby before he fished out the coin purse and headed towards the innkeeper. "You just want one room?"

Arthur could feel a blush start to creep up his neck at the smirk the innkeeper gave him along with his question but returned to look with a steely glare. "Yes, that is fine, as long as there's a bath as well. How much?"

"Three florins."

Arthur frowned at the price but fished out the coins from the purse and handed them over. "Would you mind helping me get him up the stairs?"

The innkeeper took the coins and put them away before he nodded, walking around the counter and hoisting an unconscious Alfred up by the armpits. "Get the lads legs then."

Arthur complied and between the two of them, they were able to carry Alfred up the stairs of the inn and into a comfortable, modest looking room that only had one bed but a decent partition to separate the bath from view. He nodded his thanks to the innkeeper after they had tossed Alfred onto the bed, facedown, and shut the door close as he left. He sighed, rested his forehead against the door for a moment before he turned around and studied Alfred's sleeping form for a moment. He stepped away and sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing some of his hair away from his face so it wouldn't tickle against his nose—it was surreal that in a day this would all be over. That Alfred would go back to Mei and Wall and Arthur was going to be stuck; sure, Alfred had promised to help him find a blasted candle, but if he was about to get engaged then—Arthur huffed and moved away. He had to stop thinking about all this shit, had to or else he was going to make himself sick and an emotional wreck. Understandably, he wanted to be neither of those.

A bath, he could draw a bath. He and Alfred both could do with getting clean and it made no sense to sit and sulk about things he couldn't change, not when he could be relaxing in a bath while Alfred slept. He squeezed past the small entryway to the bath area and went about drawing a bath—it took him a few times to figure out how to draw it correctly, but he got there well enough. There were robes and towels set up tidily on a cabinet beside the toilet, fluffy and clean and enough for both him and Alfred. Steam from the hot bath filled up the small, ensconced space and Arthur stripped down out of the borrowed clothing quickly, folding it neatly before he slid into the bath with a soft sigh.

It was just as nice as he remembered, lying in the bath with soft bubbles resting on the surface, letting the hot water work over his tired muscles. It had been a long week, emotionally and physically, and Arthur was drained, more tired than he could ever remember being. It was too hard for him to sleep at night most of the time, so he ended up getting only a few hours of a rest a day, usually in the pre-dawn hours. He understood why he couldn't sleep at night, it would be too suspicious and it wasn't safe to travel after dark in Stormhold, but telling himself that didn't make him any less tired. He shifted against the edge of the tub and relaxed the iron hold he'd had on concealing his wings—he was safe and away from prying eyes, it would be safe for them show for a little.

The heat and soothing nature of the bath nearly lulled him to sleep, but a sound from the room, past the partition, told him that Alfred was starting to get up. He sighed and got up and out of the tub, his skin wrinkled and pruned looking; he wrapped a towel around his waist just under the base of his spine and he shook his wings clean of water, ruffling them not unlike a bird would. He drained the bath and gathered up his dirty clothes under one arm from where he had them folded on the toilet. He pushed back his wet hair, not even bothering to try and comb it neat when he knew it would just end up messy, and peeked out before he stepped back into the main part of the room, his wings relaxed and tucked against his back.

Alfred was groaning and sitting upright on the bed, his feet resting against the floor, one hand rubbing his forehead while the other rested by his hip. Arthur took a deep breath and kept his word soft in case Alfred still had a headache. "Do you feel all right?"

Alfred grunted and brought both hands to the bed, lifting his head and eyes to meet Arthur's. "Only like I got run over by a horse, but other than that…where are we even? And why are you in a towel?"

Arthur blushed but kept his voice even. "Where at an inn in Market-town; it didn't seem like a good idea to try and cross the wall when you could barely stand. And as for the towel—well, I felt filthy and there was a perfectly good bath here to use, so I did. You can use it now, if you like, now that you're awake."

Alfred gave a small nod and then tilted his head back a bit; Arthur could see his eyes go towards his wings. "You're showing your wings? Is that safe or whatever?"

"Not like there's anyone here but us, and I'm not about to go walking outside with them showing." Arthur glanced back at them for a moment before he shrugged and headed over towards his packs for a fresh set of clothing. "Besides, it's a hassle to have to always keep them hidden away—not like I have to do that back home."

"I guess not…I like them though, your wings I mean. They're really cool looking." Arthur felt his cheeks darken and he gave a terse nod as he pulled out another pair of pants and fresh top, stuffing in the dirty clothes afterwards. "So, uh, did she turn me into a guinea pig or something? I couldn't really tell, just knew I was small and had fur."

Arthur's hands stilled for a moment as he felt something akin to dread and utter disbelief filter down his spine and through his nerves. Alfred had known he'd been transformed? Surely, he had known the witch had done something to him, as when he'd last been human had had been on a dirt road during the daytime, but he hadn't—he shouldn't have been able to know what! Not if he'd been unaware as a human and purely a rabbit during his transformation, and hadn't he been? He shook his head and tried to push the thought out of his head—just because he may have known he was turned into something didn't mean he had been aware, or Mother forbid _remembered_, anything from his time as a floppy-eared critter.

"A-a rabbit actually. You—I didn't think you were all that aware of yourself since you made no effort to show that your understood me. You wanted carrots when I asked for a sign."

Alfred was quiet in response, and the quiet stretched into an area that seemed more guilty than confused—Arthur felt his skin prickle and a rush of anger tinged embarrassment rush through him. The utter, complete, bloody_ bastard_. He had heard and understood and suddenly all the ridiculous words Arthur had poured out to an uncomprehending rabbit came rushing back to him and he felt like throwing up. He threw the clothes back down and whirled around, his wings flaring out angrily behind him and his fists clenched dangerously at his sides; he was breathing hard and wanted to hit something, preferably Alfred, and hit him hard.

"You—you are a fucking—I can't believe you just—you just sat there and listened? And you understood everything?" Arthur felt his anger heighten when Alfred met his eyes, his gaze so damn _aware_, and he could feel his wings starting to ruffle and clump tight together. "Fucking Christ, you did! What—why didn't you do something to show me you knew? Why did you let me just go on and on and make a complete fool of myself? Did you think it was funny, me baring my private thoughts to you, something you could laugh about once you transformed back and married your stupid tart?"

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" His voice was so quiet, so meek, so un-Alfred like that it paused Arthur's righteous rant for a moment and forced him to really look at him, standing there and just staring at him like he didn't care that Arthur was mad or yelling at him. "I—I messed up, I get that, I should've let you know I could understand you before letting you know I was hungry and those stupid carrots looked delicious but—but then you started saying all those things and I—I didn't want you to stop. And then I felt like an ass because I mean, it was stuff that had been bothering you for a while, stuff that I had caused and—would you have ever told me on your own though?"

"No, I would not have, because why the bloody hell would I tell someone who goes on and on about 'Mei this' and 'Mei that' how I feel? I can do without your pity and rejection, my life is shit enough as it is, being grounded like this and stupidly falling—!"

Alfred huffed and before Arthur knew it, he was across the room and too close to him, hands gripping his shoulders half angrily, half desperately and leaving him without an escape. "But then how would you know that I haven't thought about Mei all that much since I met _you_ and it's _you_ I can't get out of my head? You wouldn't, and then we'd both be miserable when we could have been awesome and-and—"

He trailed off and they both were breathing harshly as the jumble of emotions tumbled through them—did Alfred just confess that he liked him? It sounded like a confession; it would've been a confession coming from someone else but why would—how did—?

"Do you wanna know what Francis really said to me earlier today? When we were getting off the boat?" Alfred's face was close, too close, and Arthur could do little more than stare and nod softly, silently save for his breathing. "He—he said that I was a fool to think my true love was anywhere but right in front of me. I—I mean, he meant you, Arthur—and he was right, I think. He was right."

Alfred spoke the words as if he was testing the idea of being in love with Arthur, testing if the realization that it actually was true and he had just never given it much thought. Arthur watched how his face went from slightly confused to amazed to happy and he felt his Light starting to come to the surface again as realization of his own swept through him and Alfred's grip tightened; his wings settled and folded tightly against his back. Realization that this wasn't a dream resulting from his exhaustion and that Alfred really did seem to care back, the realization that hope for his feelings not being one-side was actually a possibility. Alfred right fucking there and so very warm.

"He _was _right…I totally love you and it's crazy because I've only known you for like a week and you are the best thing to have ever happened to me and the best person I've ever met all rolled up into one. Damn…I really wish I had figured this out sooner, it all seems so obvious now." He smiled at Arthur sheepishly, his ears and cheeks dusted with pink; his hands were still holding onto Arthur and he was still _so_ close. "You meant what you said, right? In the caravan—you weren't just making stuff up or anything?"

"Why would I make up any of what I said?" He was surprised his voice came out normal, if a bit quiet. He felt like he could barely contain himself and the room was starting to get brighter as his Light grew; he focused on reeling some of it back in so he didn't go blinding anyone or destroying buildings.

"Oh, good…can I kiss you then? I really want to kiss you, kinda have all week, and I'm pretty sure that's what you're supposed to do after big confessions and stuff."

"All right." That did come out breathy and little more than a whisper, but it hardly mattered because they each leaned in and pressed their lips together. Arthur didn't know what he was doing, and Alfred certainly didn't seem to as their lips moved awkwardly, hesitantly and shyly against each other, but it still felt right. Like, somehow, they were meant to do this—which Arthur could admit was utterly preposterous as he was a star and Alfred very much human (though how much was up for debate considering he was a child of two worlds) and the likelihood they would have ever met if he hadn't fallen was slim to none. Still, there it was, ringing so clear between them like it had always meant to be, despite their differences.

It was about then, after his arms were wrapped around Alfred's shoulders and he felt hands ghosting across the small of his back and curiously exploring his wings that Arthur became aware that he was still dressed only in a bath towel around his waist. He felt passing questions about whether this was a smart idea, what the mechanics really would be, because Arthur may have watched all his life but he knew when to give privacy thank you, and whether he would even be any good at it—but then Alfred tilted his head just so, sliding their lips together in a way that wasn't awkward or odd at all, and he promptly told his brain to fuck off for a bit.

The devil was in the details, the saying goes. What was important was that Alfred wanted him, really wanted him and he wanted Alfred. With Alfred, he felt alive and new and as if he had found something he hadn't known he'd been waiting for all his years. It was something like home—Arthur smiled just a little into the kiss and pushed Alfred down onto the bed, his wings furling out behind him to keep him balanced as he followed straight after, straddling strong legs. They had broken apart for that short moment and Arthur caught the honest, amazed look in Alfred's eyes as his hands trailed up his wings and his Light shined bright before it faded to soft glow that lasted even after he turned the lights out.

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><p>Sex was awesome. Okay, maybe he didn't have the greatest wealth of experience to draw on, but Alfred was pretty sure that it even if he had a lot to compare to, sex with Arthur would always be too awesome for words. Sure, it hadn't lasted all that long and there had been some really awkward moments where neither was really sure where to put their hands, and Arthur's wings as cool as they were kinda kept getting in the way, but it had still been amazing. He had fallen asleep happy and had woken up even happier, content to just stare at Arthur as he continued to sleep through the pre-dawn hours. It wasn't creepy, staring like that; they were in love so that made it okay.<p>

Alfred sighed and stroked a hand down the Arthur's bare back, feeling the knobs of his spine and the odd shape the bone took when it passed over the joints for his wings. It was still so crazy to think about, that a week ago he had thought he was in love with Mei, that he was so crazy about her he had crossed the wall to a magical world to go and get a star for her just to try and marry her. It seemed like the boy who'd loved her was a completely different person, one that Alfred had trouble recognizing as himself—and a lot of that had to do with Arthur. Not everything because Alfred done some pretty heroic shit since coming to Stormhold and had realized a lot of stuff on his own, but the star had done enough to be considered a major factor. If he had never met Arthur, never learned about him and listened to him bitch and huff and scold in that soft, I'm-only-doing-this-because-I-feel-like-I-have-to way, he never would have learned everything he had.

He would probably still think he was wrong instead of just different.

He would probably still be worried about what everyone else thought of him instead of realizing he was awesome already.

He would probably still be pining after some girl who didn't care about anyone but herself and didn't deserve a gift as amazing as a star.

He never would have fallen in love, real love. The kind that poets and bards write sappy songs about and people dreamed about.

All because of Arthur—Alfred laughed softly and stroked a finger gently down a soft feather. He was lucky, he realized, lucky that he had found Arthur, lucky that the star had decided to trust him, and really damn lucky that he had fallen in love with him. Not because Arthur was a star and had cool powers and stuff and apparently a heart that granted immortality, but because he was _Arthur_.

He lifted his head up a bit off the bed, his fingers playing with a loose feather idly, marveling how it felt kind of like a birds and not at the same time. It almost had a soft metallic feel to it, and even though his wings looked like an angel's would when all grouped together, up close, the feathers were entirely unique and unlike anything Alfred had ever seen. He glanced at Arthur and plucked the loose feather, probably that way from their earlier activities, from the others surroundings it and twirled it in between his thumb and forefinger. He admired how the feather caught the light filtering in softly from the window and then wrapped it up in a small handkerchief from the bedside table. He rolled out of bed and got dressed quickly and quietly, strapping on the long knife and the lightning canister as a last minute thought, just in case he ran into trouble. Arthur shifted and made a noise from the bed but didn't wake up; Alfred grinned down at him and brushed back his messy hair before he slipped out of the room without a peep.

The feather was tucked into his coat and he left a message for Arthur with the hung-over innkeeper before he walked out into the sunshine—it was Mei's birthday and he had a promise to keep before his new life could begin.

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><p>Arthur had never felt so well rested. He blinked his eyes open and gave a small smile when he saw that it was morning, realizing he had actually slept through the night for the first time in his life. He arched his back, letting his wings furl out and in a few times to stretch out a little before he had to hid them again, and rolled over into an empty half of a bed that he expected another body to be. He blinked again, his smile fading a little due to his confusion and pushed himself into a sitting position, glancing around the room to see if maybe Alfred was taking a bath.<p>

"Alfred?" No answer. He frowned and got to his feet, glancing around the room and noticing that most of Alfred's packs were there, but had been rifled through and were messy on the floor. His sword and the lightning were missing, along with his shoes, and Arthur felt something odd start to trickle into his mind. He threw on the clothes he had selected the previous night and did one last check to make sure his wings were out of sight before he headed out of the room and down the stairs to the inn's lobby. The innkeeper was there and nursing a red, thick looking drink very slowly, misery and too much alcohol practically spilling out of him for anyone to see.

"Excuse me, but have you seen my friend? The one you helped carry up last night?" Arthur's voice was soft and pleasant, still feeling better than he could ever remember feeling before in the wake of Last Night, which he would forever refer to in capital letters. He had no reason to be worried or unpleasant just because Alfred hadn't been there when he woke up. Sure, he knew that some humans thought it a problem, but that simply was their own insecurities cropping up. The innkeeper focused on him for a moment before he nodded and took another swig of his drink.

"He ran out unreasonably early, said he had to keep a promise."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "So he left?"

"Sure did. Told me to give you a message. He said that he's gone to see Mei, because he keeps his promises, and then just ran out. Didn't tell me when he'd be back." Arthur blinked and turned away from the innkeeper, his heart beating unusually fast and not sure why it felt like it was being squeezed so tight it might burst. He…left? Just like that, he was going back to Mei? But hadn't—they had—it didn't make any sense. Alfred had been so—so happy and why would he leave Arthur to go back to a woman he had said last night he hadn't loved as much as he thought? Why would he go back when he said he loved Arthur?

"You're sure that's what he said?"

"What I heard."

"Th-thank you then. Our things are still upstairs but we-I'll be back for them in a little bit, is that all right?"

"Sure, you bought the room for a day, it's yours until tonight."

Arthur nodded and walked out of the inn without a glance back, feeling a little light-headed and angry and confused all at once, not sure what was going on but he knew, just _knew_, that the innkeeper couldn't have been right. He had to have misheard Alfred, or misinterpreted or something—Alfred wouldn't have just—he couldn't have left without—he wouldn't have left him after everything. But—what if he had? What if Alfred had just said all that because he felt bad, because he pitied Arthur and his feelings? What if he had lied?

"He didn't lie."

But what if he had? Arthur had been watching worlds for years, but how much did he really know about what motivated humans? How much of what he knew was really just what he assumed? How did he know that Alfred meant everything he said, hadn't just left him? Like all the evidence seemed to say he did?

"No—no he wouldn't have."

He bit his lip and clenched his hands tight as he stormed through the roads in Market-town, trying to believe the stupid voice who was nagging him with his doubts was just that—stupid. He didn't really see all the color and vendors in Market-town as he stormed past, and he certainly didn't see a pretty girl in a green dress look at him in disbelief and worry as he walked single-mindedly towards the wall. All he could see was Alfred's smiling face, how amazed he looked when he touched Arthur's wings, how his face had looked last night when they had been—when everything had been so right. He had to know, had to know that Alfred was coming back and that he hadn't left him after everything had finally made sense.

He walked out of Market-town's gate and down a wooded road that led to an open field. He could see the wall from there, and the small gap in the wall as well—he kept walking and walking until he heard something rushing behind him. He stopped, not that far from the gap and able to see the bent old man on the other side, and turned to see the yellow caravan that belonged to the witch hurrying towards him. The witch wasn't driving it though, a girl was; she didn't look much older than Alfred and was looking at him with a fearful, direct gaze. He stopped and watched as she approached, surprised she could see him when the other witch hadn't—but then he saw the chain around her ankle and it was all clear. She wasn't a witch, she was a witch's slave; she leapt off the caravan and hurried towards him.

"You can't go through the wall, Arthur, if you do you'll die!" He blinked at the girl as she took his hands, wondering for a split second as to how she knew his name, before her words sunk in. He looked behind to the gap and then back at the girl, confusion marring his features and mingling with the understandable fear of nearly killing yourself. "It's only in Stormhold that stars can fall, if you set foot on Earth, in their world, you'll die."

"But then why—?" Why had Alfred wanted to take him across the bloody wall?

"Alfred doesn't—he was raised on the other side, he doesn't know the rules. He never would have suggested you trying to cross the wall if he knew!" Arthur heard the way her voice shifted and saw the way her face softened when she mentioned Alfred, someone else she shouldn't have known the name of. He took in her pretty face, green eyes that were nearly as bright as his own and unusually rich in color, and her mouth and nose which curved familiarly. Change the color of her hair and eyes, make her a bit taller, and give her glasses and—

"You're Alfred's mum." He didn't so much as ask it but breathe it; she nodded, a little tearfully, but any other words that could have been shared between them were cut off as the doors of the caravan were blasted away and a very angry witch leapt out, her eyes burning with rage and hatred. Arthur knew she couldn't see him.

"You wretched whore, where have you taken me?" The witch pulled on the silver chain tight, knocking Alfred's mother off her feet and dragging her across the grass; Arthur started for a moment before he rushed forward to help her up. "This is the last straw, you hear me? Don't think I don't know it was you who gave away my flower to that boy! You think you're schemes for freedom are going by unnoticed? I always noticed and I swear to the Dark Mother, I'll throttle the life out of you before I'll let that happen!"

She was unusually strong for a woman; Arthur figured it was due to her being a witch or something. He let go of Alfred's mother and whirled about to face the witch, knowing she couldn't see him or touch him and spread his wings wide. Maybe he couldn't touch her, but that didn't mean a decent sized wind storm kicked up by his wings wouldn't; sure enough, he was right. The witch toppled over by the strong gust and Arthur hurried forward to help Alfred's mother to her feet. As he did so, he saw a black carriage pull up alongside them in the road; he blinked and sucked in a quick gulp of air as the witch from the inn stepped out and stared at him with hard eyes. She was older, much older, than she had been a few days ago, and looked twice as dangerous.

"Wall is it? If death is what you seek, I'd be happy to assist you." Arthur cringed back, Alfred's mother still in his arms, and glared at the witch with every bit of loathing he possessed.

"Who are you?" The blond witch stepped forward cautiously, looking at those she could see with wary caution. "What are you—?"

"Ah, Bridget Oakbark, you're here too. Isn't it odd how often ripples cross one another in their many journeys? And what I'm doing here is fetching my star—I believe I've earned it after all the running around and murdering it made me do."

"Star?" The witch, Bridget, looked at Alfred's mother in derision. "My slave's sure as Hades not a star. If she was, I'd have had the heart out of her long ago, trust me on that. More trouble than she's—"

"Worth, I know. And trust you? Not something I'd be likely to do again, Bridget Oakbark." The witch tilted her head and the sky darkened around them, a small, cloying smile crawling across her decrepit face. "'What's it to be, eh? _Heads or tails_?'"

That was all the warning Bridget Oakbark had before a blast of blue light was launched at her. She was quick enough to raise her own power, a murky orange that leaned towards brown, but it was quickly overwhelmed and the next thing Arthur knew, he was staring at a headless corpse where a woman had once been. Alfred's mother let out a shocked gasp, not even noticing how the silver chain around her ankle fell away into the grass, before she turned her attention toward the other witch and tugged Arthur away possessively—like a mother. Arthur stumbled after her, his wings already folding back against his skin but the witch spared them a humored look before she pointed at a section of the loose chain and wrapped it around Arthur's wrist.

"That doesn't make him have to go with you! You're not taking him anywhere!"

"I think you'll find I am." The witch leveled a look at Alfred's mother before she pointed at the corpse on the ground, muttered a few words that sounded more like noises, and the silver chain wrapped around her ankle again, sealing in dark orange and then blue. "There, your curse under Bridget Oakbark is now transferred to me, which means you're now my slave and if the star doesn't want to see you dragged outside this carriage the whole ride back to my home, it'll have to cooperate. So what's it to be, star? Inside and behaved, or dragged outside? The girl hasn't got wings like yours and I'm a bit behind schedule in getting you back, so don't expect me to go slow."

"Arthur, don't!" He gave her a look that clearly said he would never be able to live with or forgive himself if he did that, and then gave the witch a terse nod of his head. He was terrified and wanted to be nowhere near the vile witch, but he had just, by pure chance, found Alfred's mother and there was no way he could just abandon her to save himself. He could—he'd figure something out, there was no way he was just going to _let_ this witch cut out his heart. Alfred's mother looked like she was close to tears, but the witch yanked her into the carriage, motioning for Arthur to follow after. He did with a heavy heart, sparing Alfred's mother a small, sad smile when she gripped his hand and held it tight as the witch made the carriage move again with a flicking motion towards the horses.

"I'm sorry you're mixed into this. I was just—Alfred left and I needed—you shouldn't have come after me, ma'am."

She smiled weakly, took a shaky breath, and wrapped his hands tightly within her own as the carriage lurched into motion. "Call me Elizaveta."

TBC..

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><p>*smooches*<p>

Remember to review if you liked!


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Star-Crossed  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Note: This is something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love

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_**Star-Crossed**_

_Chapter Nine: Dust_

Things certainly look grim, don't they? While I'm sure you're quite anxious to see what is going on with Arthur and Alfred's mother, who unwittingly has admitted to you that she really is a long-lost princess known as Una (or Elizaveta if you're feeling less pompous), we must first look at what happened to Alfred after he left Arthur in Market-town. Which wasn't the smartest thing he could've done—you be sure to remember this piece of advice. You do _not_ leave your partner alone, under any circumstances, after your first night together. It will never end well. As it didn't for Alfred, whose purposes in leaving were not even as horrible as Arthur had imagined them to be at all; in fact, his reasons for leaving were actually quite romantic.

He left Arthur not to be with Mei, as I'm sure you've well worked out on your own, but to end that chapter of his life so he could start wholly with new his future. And to see his father of course. Wall had never been his home, he had realized that during his travels in Stormhold with Arthur, but he wasn't about to just abandon his father or let him think he had been killed in his adventures. He had a promise to keep; if there's something you should know about Alfred at this point, it's that he always keeps his promises.

He made the journey across the wall and into town quickly and had headed straight to Mei's home, deciding his business with her needed to be resolved first and foremost. He took the familiar path to her house and knocked on the door instead of tossing up a rock to her window, like the old Alfred would've done oh-so foolishly. And when she answered the door, looking pretty as can be with an anticipatory smile on her face, and he felt nothing flutter within his heart, he couldn't help the happy grin that came from knowing he'd come to his senses before making a huge mistake.

"Alfred!" Mei said. She looked him over with surprise and delight, for the man before her was worlds different from the boy who had left. "You came back, just as you promised!"

"Yeah, I did. Happy birthday, Mei, I hope it's going good so far!"

She smiled coyly at him and stepped closer, her head tilted prettily to the side. "Oh, it's going very well, and about to go even better. Do you have my star, like you promised me, Alfred? Can I see it?"

Alfred's smile went gentle as he thought of Arthur and he pulled out the wrapped up feather from his coat, handing it over to Mei. She took it with a confused expression before she met Alfred's gaze again. "Isn't this awfully small for a star?"

"Well, that's just a little piece, for your birthday. Things kind of changed Mei, changed when I found the star and—I'm really sorry, but I don't want to marry you anymore. But, I did promise you a star for your birthday, so I wanted to bring you like a token!" If Alfred was a bit more perceptive of a man, he would have realized that telling a young girl that you do not want to marry her, on her birthday, is probably not the best time to do so. Mei agreed with that entirely as you can imagine, especially in the wake of how much more confident and handsome Alfred was, and huffed angrily as she opened up the napkin to peer at the token of 'her' star, which had never even been hers to begin with.

"Why would I want this? This is just a handful of stardust." She pouted and tossed it back at Alfred, who caught it, confused, until he opened it up. There, in place of a beautiful feather, was a pile of silver and black dust that winked at him for a few moments before the wind picked up and blew it away. He stared for a moment, not sure what he was seeing or why the feather had disintegrated before it all crashed back into him with horrifying certainty.

"He-he can't cross the wall. Arthur can't cross the wall."

Alfred tossed the napkin down and turned on his heel, sprinting off and back towards the wall with a black pit of dread in his stomach, heedless to Mei's calls for him to wait and come back. He didn't stop when the people of Wall called out his name, surprised to see him after his week long absence, and he couldn't stop for his father, whose voice he heard call out to him before he ran out of the town gates and took off back towards the wall. He prayed to any god that would listen that Arthur hadn't tried to follow him, that he was still asleep and waiting safe back in the inn. He shouldn't have left, he realized woefully too late, and the thought of Arthur dying because of him, because of some fool promise he made a wisp of a girl who didn't matter, kept his legs pumping through the burn of his muscles and lungs.

As he broke through the small woods and into the clearing that followed the wall, he saw Old Rome hobbling away from his post, cane and stool in hand, a frightened look on his face. Alfred stopped him and learned what he had seen. Learned that Arthur had nearly crossed over, but had been stopped by a girl driving a yellow caravan. Learned that two women, witches, had fought and the one from the inn had killed the one that had taken him to Market-town as a rabbit. Learned that the witch who wanted to cut out Arthur's heart had captured him, and the girl, and had taken them away in a black carriage. Alfred felt cold terror grip him and he leapt through the gap in the wall, his eyes taking in the scorched ground, the corpse of the witch, and the tracks of a carriage leading away to the west.

The mare reined to the caravan looked a bit panicked still, but Alfred could see she had a good pair of legs in her and knew, even as fast as he could run with his strength, he'd need her to have any hope in catching up to the witch before it was too late. He hurried up and unbuckled her from the caravan, his eyes catching on the small white, snowdrop he had traded the witch for the prior day. Most fortuitous you're thinking, yes? That it's quite convenient that the flower he had given away that could actually protect him from a witch's magic happened to be right there for him before taking off on the mare. And you would be quite correct, it was very convenient, and sometimes you just have to accept that chance works in your favor from time to time because I assure you, everything I tell you happened. Who would know better than me?

But enough of that—the important thing to note is that Alfred found the flower, knew how it could help him against a witch, and tucked it into his jacket before he mounted the mare and took off after the carriage tracks. He rode the horse hard and they flew down after the carriage, past the forests and a few small towns along the way, until he reached a large, rocky area. The sky appeared darker over it and when he rode to the edge of what looked to be a cliff, he saw a large manor at the bottom of a chasm only a hundred feet down or so. And outside that manor, was a dark carriage he recognized as once belonging to Prince Ludwig—he narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth as he rode the mare down the winding path into the gorge. When he reached the bottom, he leapt off the horse and drew out his long knife, creeping towards the manor with anger and fear rolling through his veins.

What Alfred did not know, however, was that he was not alone in that chasm. That another had arrived before him and was waiting for the opportune moment to ambush the group of witches he had already spotted through a window. The arrival of another young man though, that had not been something Prince Matthew had expected, so with all the stealth and quiet footfalls of a prince used to assassination, he crept over towards the boy, sword in hand. Now, don't worry loves, he wasn't going to just kill Alfred—Matthew never killed without good reason. But he needed to know what he was doing there, you see, and he needed to know before he barged in because if the young man was there to defend the star, for Matthew remembered what the goat-herd had said about there being a young man with his brother who had protected the star, and wondered if this was the same lad.

And when he rested his sword against the boy's neck, they were both met with a remarkable surprise.

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"Be still, or else I'll kill you where you stand." Matthew's voice was quiet and little more than a hiss into the young man's ear. They were of similar height, but the young man was broader in the shoulders—Matthew knew how to take down men larger than him though. He rested his sword against the youth's neck, applying just enough pressure to instill enough common sense to not try anything stupid. "Now, tell me why you're here. What business do you have with witches? Especially witches that have spilled royal blood?"

"I'm saving my friend—he got kidnapped when I—I'm here to save him." The young man's voice held a similar timbre to his own and Matthew narrowed his eyes at the back of the blond head. "I don't really have time for the twenty questions though, so can you take a sec and look down and decide whether you really want to keep that sword against my neck?"

Matthew furrowed his expression and glanced down—to see a knife aimed straight at his belly. He blinked before giving the youth an appraising glance, moving his sword in time with the youth. He heard the young man sigh and then he turned around and Matthew felt his breath catch in his throat; the young man looked surprised as well. It was like looking in a mirror, Matthew thought as he looked into the young man's face; they looked so similar they could've been twins. They both had the same nose, the same chin, the same cheekbones, and their eyes, while different hues, had the same vivid, inked color that instantly caught attention—he was even wearing glasses. Matthew didn't have his on at the moment but he did have a pair that he wore at night generally. They stared at one another for another silent moment before a noise echoed from the manor and drew both of their attentions back to the witches.

"If you're here to fight the witches, then count myself as an ally."

"Really?"

Matthew rolled his eyes at the equally optimistic and doubtful tone but kept his gaze focused on the window, watching hazy figures move about through the dust and grime. "I just said so, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah but you were just holding a sword at my neck so—"

"That was before I knew you fought against these hags as well." Matthew gave the young man a wry smirk before tilting his head at the window pointedly. Comprehension dawned on the eerily-similar face almost comically before the youth leaned in close and peered into the window as well. "Our odds are much better against a coven of witches if there are two of us, wouldn't you say? They are four of them."

"No, there's only three—they took a girl too, with my friend I mean." Matthew arched an eyebrow in question.

"And you know this how?"

"Old Rome, I mean the gatekeeper, he told me. Could see the witch fight through the gap in the wall." The young man was staring inside the manor with an intensity that bespoke more than a friend trying to help a friend; Matthew studied him for a moment before he turned back to stare inside. He caught the outline of something that could only be wings—the star. "So there's only three witches."

"Well, three is certainly a more attractive number. Follow my lead and we just have a shot at this."

"Uh, no offense, but you're like what, a year older than me? And you're kinda small, shouldn't you be following my lead?"

Matthew grinned and shook his head. He was likely at least a decade, if not more, older than the youth—Stormhold royalty aged gracefully, a gift from the Fey blood running in their veins from their grandmother's side. "Not if you want to live. Trust me, I have plenty of practice at killing things."

"Right…that's awesome?"

Matthew chuckled and gave the blond a conciliatory smile before he turned focused his attention away from the window and towards the large double doors. They slinked away, weapons at hand and readied themselves for a moment outside the large doors. It was odd, Matthew thought, that he was joining this unknown doppelganger, who looked too much like him to be any sort of coincidence, in a fight to avenge his brother. Still, an ally was an ally and he knew he would need one against three witches. "Might I have the honor of knowing your name before we barge in, swords blazing? Seems only right, don't want to go on calling you 'some guy' in my head."

"Alfred Jones." The young man, Alfred, grinned bright and it looked so intensely like Gilbert's or Han's smile that Matthew felt a strange emotion run through him. Like remorse, almost—it was odd and he pushed it aside for the moment. Talks of parentage and potentially life-threatening allergies that could be used to poison could wait until after the witches were dispatched and the star was saved.

"Well, nice to meet you Alfred Jones. You can call my Matthew."

Alfred nodded and gripped his long knife tighter in his hands. Matthew took a deep breath and readied his mind, trying to visualize his movements and reactions for a moment before everything began, but Alfred grit his teeth and kicked the door—hard. The door splintered and Matthew stared at the strength Alfred exhibited, strength that was similar to what Ivan and Ludwig had inherited from their father, before he snapped his mind back to the present and rushed into the manor, sword at the ready. The manor was dark and seemed to be made entirely of marbled tile and mirrors, low chandeliers hung from the ceiling and looked to have barbs on them. There were rows of caged animals in one corner and Matthew felt another spike of anger when he saw them—he'd always had a soft spot for animals.

"Arthur!" Matthew stared at Alfred as he looked straight ahead to the young man, the freaking _star_, that was strapped to a low table at the top of a staircase on the opposite end of the manor's hall. Matthew couldn't help but stare for a moment, took in the rather ordinary looking young man, apart from the strapped wings. He had imagined stars to look somewhat exotic, beautiful beyond compare, and ethereal; he couldn't really see the detail in the star's face from where he stood but he looked disappointingly ordinary. That is, until the star turned his head and focused on Alfred—then he started to glow and Matthew had trouble remembering anything so beautiful.

"Alf—you bloody idiot, look out!" Matthew saw what Arthur spotted before Alfred did, the smallest witch darting forward with fire racing up her arms. He acted on instinct; he dropped his sword and whipped out a pair of daggers he kept strapped to his chest, whirling them at the charging witch with deadly accuracy and impaling her right as Alfred noticed her attack. The witch shuddered for a moment, looked down at her chest as if she couldn't quite figure out what had happened and then fell down dead to the ground. Matthew spared her one look of disgust and picked back up his sword, focusing his eyes on the remaining two witches.

"Soraphine!" The largest witch cried out tearfully before she leapt off the staircase with agility that belayed her size. "You will pay for that! How dare you kill a witch blessed as a dark queen!"

"You dared first, killing a prince of Stormhold. I'm just repaying the kindness your sister paid my brother." Matthew's voice was soft and calm in the quiet of the hall and he allowed a small smirk when Alfred's eyes turned to look at him with shock. "Now, I'll have to ask that you release your two prisoners or else things are going to get a bit ugly."

"Oksana, teach our royal guest proper manners, will you?" The witch at the top of the stairs spoke with such ice in her voice, it nearly chilled the room—Matthew had no doubt that had been the one to slit his brother's throat. The larger witch nodded and charged, yellow power gathered in her hands. This time, Alfred was ready as well and joined in to help Matthew fight off the witch, who was quicker and more formidable than the previous one had been—but it ended the same way, the witch dead on the floor and Matthew's weapon bloodied. Alfred's long knife glistened with blood as well and he had hurried to the staircase, dodging chandeliers as the last witch made them fall from the ceiling.

"Matthew? Mattie, is that you?" Matthew froze from his poised stance to follow after Alfred and turned around to face the long-lost voice behind him. There had only been one person who had ever called him Mattie. And there she was, looking just as he remembered if a little worse for wear, a relieved smile on her face.

"Liz?" She choked on a sob and nodded before she hurried forward, wrapping her arms around him; she was smaller than he remembered. That or he was bigger. It was an odd feeling, to be happy to see someone from his family, but Elizaveta had been the only one like him, who understood that things needed to change and it would require their sacrifice to make it so. Then she had disappeared and he was left with their plans for nearly twenty years—until here she was, in the same room as a star, a witch, and a young man that looked so similar to him it could only mean one thing. "I looked for you, for years I looked."

She nodded before she disentangled herself from his embrace, as if realizing that now was not the time to have their reunion. "I—they'll be time for this later, for now you must help him, Mattie! Help my son, he needs you!"

There it was, the confirmation he'd been waiting for. "You want him to be king?"

"I want him to survive, Matthew—that's all." That wasn't all and he knew it, but Matthew could never deny his sister anything—and maybe with a different sort of person as king, someone with a star and two royal siblings at his side, things could be different so much sooner. "Please, please help him, Mattie!"

He stared at her before nodding and running back down the hall to where Alfred was fighting against some kind of large reanimated corpse. He fought well, Matthew observed; he hadn't learned that long ago but he fought with the same natural skill that his father had, that Hans and Feliks had. But so did the corpse controlled by the witch; Matthew clenched his teeth and leapt into the fray, catching a better glance of the star's face now that he was just below the staircase. The star was handsome, but had a pair of enormous eyebrows that were pretty distracting—still, he could definitely see the appeal to his nephew. Gods above, that felt odd to say. _ His_ nephew. He hadn't really expected much in the way of extended family, what with his killing off most of his brothers and all.

Matthew waited for the right moment and swung his sword high as the corpse struck long at Alfred, taking its head clear off; he didn't bother wiping off his sword as the corpse collapsed to the ground. Alfred gave him a look of profound thanks before turning his attention to the remaining witch, the one that had killed his brother at the inn; Matthew wasted no time in following suit. "I think you've had enough people fight for you, witch. Let the star go—I'll consider my brother's blood repaid in exchange for your sisters' blood if you let him free and allow us to leave."

The witch's cold veneer cracked and she grimaced down at them, setting aside a glittering black knife and walking away from the star; Matthew could hear the breath of relief Alfred let out at the movement. "And what of your other brothers, Prince? What of their blood? What makes one so important that it demands repayment when your family has killed each other for centuries?"

"It is one thing when tradition spills the blood of a prince, and when someone else does and you know it."

"Murder is murder. Your brother's death can be viewed as _my _demand of blood for your murder of my beloved!"

She all but screamed out the last part, her wrinkled face contorted in rage and suddenly Matthew knew who she was. Recognized her under the age and ugliness. She was the witch who had been infatuated with Ivan, the one that had followed him near everywhere and had nearly had a death sentence placed on her head by their father when she murdered a family in 'honor' of Ivan. Natalia, that was her name. Matthew felt an unusual trill of fear and foreboding crawl up his spine as her eyes glinted at them and she started to descend the stairs. The closer she came to them, more composure she regained, until she was all but smiling at them once she reached the last stair, her long hair white against her head and dragging on the ground. Matthew could see the star struggling against the bindings out of the corner of his eyes—he could also see how his sister had migrated to the other side of the staircase in her quiet fashion and was crawling up the stairs from the other side.

"I suppose I owe you thanks though. Your bumbling quest for revenge actually rid me of two people I would have to do kill today anyway. And—you've brought him back to me, my beloved is here once more. Now I can bring him back—with the heart of a star I can bring him back!" Natalia's eyes seemed to stare past Matthew's shoulder but as curious as he was, he couldn't bring himself to look. She was powerful, he could feel magic crackling in the air around her—he'd be lucky if he made it out of this alive. All of them would; but he could do his best to give his sister, her son, and the star a fighting chance.

"My brother isn't here. I drove a knife through his neck when I was sixteen. He was very surprised, you know…everyone expected him to be the one to start the killing." Matthew did his best to keep his tone glib and a small smile on his face; Natalia practically growled in response, her composure dropping just as quickly as it had come. "Ivan didn't even really care for you, he told our father how you were stalking him and butchering farmers and their families and urged father to put a death price on your head."

"You lie!"

"Why would I? We all knew Ivan humored you because he thought his chances of killing the rest of us off would be easier if he had a witch on his side."

"Dude—what the hell are you—?"

Matthew ignored Alfred's hurried whispers. "He was planning to marry, you know. After he had the crown and you had served your purpose he was going to marry a girl from one of our father's favored dukedoms. Don't make the mistake of believing my brother cared for you, he didn't care about anyone but himself."

Natalia screamed and released a blast of magic just as he saw his sister reach the top of the stairs and hurry to free the star—he raised his sword and kept his eyes open as the magic rushed toward him. He knew the steel of his sword would offer only minimal protection against that much magic and that he was likely going to be dead within the next few seconds, but he could not find the fear of death he expected. Resignation, that was what was predominant in his mind—that and a little bit of regret. Maybe that was all he deserved though, after all that he had done in his life. He closed his eyes at the last moment, deciding that watching his death speed toward him was neither noble nor heroic, and as such, did not see Alfred swing the odd canister strapped across his shoulders to the forefront.

He did, however, feel cackling energy slam into him from the side and knock him to the side and out of the magic's path. He blinked and felt breathless, rolling over to his side and coughing, feeling a little bit singed and blinked at Alfred, who was holding the canister like a cannon before him, face wild and glasses a little crooked. He grinned at Matthew before he turned the canister back towards Natalia and opened it again, releasing a bolt of lightning straight into her chest. Matthew felt an honest smile spread across his cracked lips for a moment before darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

TBC...

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Reviews are kind.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Star-Crossed  
>Genre: humor, romance, angst<br>Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)  
>Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.<br>Note: This is something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust  
>by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3<em><em>

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><p><em><strong>Star-Crossed<br>**_

_Chapter 10: Shine_

We come now to the end and the only words I have for you are to remember that things are not always as they seem. And to ask you to remember what stars do best.

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><p>Alfred's head was still spinning from everything that had happened. Only a few short hours ago he'd woken up happy, no longer a virgin, and next to Arthur, who had looked so peaceful and beautiful that Alfred's heart had ached just looking at him. And he didn't give a rat's ass how sappy that made him because he was in love with an amazing person, a star, who loved him back. Now though, now he was in an epic showdown with a crazy witch-lady next to a guy who looked like he stole his face and Arthur strapped to a table so his heart could be cut out to bring some other guy back to life. Matthew had been lucky that Alfred had good instincts and had thought to use a little bolt of lightning to blast him out of the witch's way, given everything that was going on. God knows he was having trouble just stringing two thoughts together, much less keeping his wits about him to save other people.<p>

He stared at the witch, who was down on the ground and groaning after he'd hit her with a powerful blast of lightning, half surprised he had hit her and half exhilarated he had fucking _hit her_. Matthew was smoking a bit from where the lightning had hit his side, and he was unconscious with shiny burns peeking through his burnt clothes, but he was still alive. He found it ironic that he had saved him though, considering the guy had basically just confessed to murdering his brothers—still, he seemed like a decent enough guy. He was helping them all out at any rate. Alfred shook his head and turned back to the witch, eyes widening as she began to climb back to her feet; he hit her with another blast of lightning without really thinking about it and winced when she flew through the air and hit the opposite wall with a _thunk_.

"Alfred!" He looked up and smiled as he saw Arthur standing free of the restraints, eyes wide and full of too many emotions to pick out one in specific; the young woman who'd been caught as well was standing beside him, a knife in her hands. Alfred sprinted up the staircase and pulled Arthur to him in a fierce hug, his sword clattering to the ground when Arthur returned it, shaking a little and burying his face in Alfred's neck. "You—why the fucking hell did you _leave_? That innkeeper—he just said—that you left and—you are such a bloody idiot!"

Alfred felt a swoop of guilt settle in his stomach and he clutched Arthur tighter, probably too tight, as it finally occurred to him how much of a colossally bad idea it had been to have left that morning without waking him up to let him know where he was going. He pulled back a little and kissed Arthur, his hands clutching at the back of the star's neck tighter when he felt Arthur kiss him back just as hard. It was brief and over before either of them really realized it and Alfred exhaled against Arthur's lips. "I'm so, so sorry. You're right, I was stupid I shouldn't have—Christ Arthur, I could've killed you by making you cross the wall! I didn't know—and when I saw your feather—and then Old Rome told me how you'd been captured—"

Arthur kissed him again, a small hiccup that was half a laugh and half a relieved breath, and Alfred could feel the smile pressed against his lips even after Arthur pulled away. "You didn't know. For fuck's sake, _I_ didn't know. But I'm all right, Alfred, I'm all right. You came back and—and this is probably not the best place to have this discussion. We need to leave."

Alfred met green eyes and nodded; the witch was still on the ground from the last lightning strike, but Alfred had a good feeling she wasn't dead—if there was anything he learned in all his heroic stories it was that the bad guys were never 'just dead.' He wrapped Arthur's hand in his own after picking his sword back up; he looked over at the girl for the first time and frowned in slight confusion; she was looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Hey, you okay, lady? We'll get you outta here, don't worry, you don't need to cry!"

"Alfred, it's not that," Arthur said softly.

"I'm—I'm your mother. I'm your mother, Alfred." Alfred blinked. The woman looked barely older than himself and she was his mother? He was finding his _mom_ on top of everything else? He felt his jaw drop open a little before Arthur's hand closed it for him. There was a beat of utter stillness when Alfred just stared at the woman, at his _mom_, before he shook himself and she seemed to realize that there could've been a better time to drop such a large revelation. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just—Arthur's right, this isn't the place for this, we need to leave. We can talk after we get the nine hells out of here!"

"But, you're like young looking…shouldn't you be older if you're my mom?" Alfred ignored the elbow jab Arthur gave him and followed his mom down the stairs. She headed to where Matthew was still knocked out on the floor. "I mean, not to say you should look old or anything, it's just—it's weird, you look like a few years older than me."

"Our family ages well, Alfred. Listen, we can discuss all the finer details once we're outside this cursed place—I don't know why I even said anything, this is hardly how I envisioned our reunion!" She crack a small smile and wrapped one of Matthew's arms around her shoulder, lifting him up and carrying all his body weight without breaking a sweat. Alfred blinked and realized with a wild feeling of happiness where he got his strength from.

"Elizaveta, what about the curse? She said she transferred it to her control." Alfred looked over at Arthur and puzzled what the heck he was talking about, but his mom, Elizaveta, seemed to know what he was referring to.

"Oh that—it's broken now, see?" She lifted a slim ankle and displayed it awkwardly, still balancing Matthew against her side. Alfred looked at it and wondered what he was supposed to be seeing. There was nothing there, but maybe that was what was important because Arthur smiled at the sight of the bare ankle. "The curse stated I was bound to be a slave until either my master died or one of the Moon's children fell of their own will—you may not have fallen of your free will at first, Arthur, but when he came through these doors and your doubts for your shared feelings vanished, you _did_ have a choice, and you made it. So, I suppose I should be thanking you for my freedom, as well as my son's happiness!"

Alfred could feel his own ears burn at his mom's words, and poor Arthur looked redder than a tomato, his hand within Alfred's tightening just a bit. "Well that's—brilliant then, good to know."

"It is, isn't it? Now, enough jibber-jabber, time to get out of here! Matthew could use a healer—I'm sure the lightning was better for him then the magic, but he could still do with a look to make sure nothing's been permanently damaged." Alfred watched his mom hitch Matthew's lax body up and shuffle towards the large doors, which were still open, and hung back for a moment. He grabbed Arthur's hand and met the questioning gaze head on as his mom headed out the doors.

He looked dirty and had smudges on his arms and shirt that was the color of rust, likely old blood stains from that table, and his eyes were still too bright and too wide to be completely normal. He had a bruise on one cheek but other than that he appeared mostly unharmed—and he was still wearing that dumb necklace around his neck. Alfred felt his limbs shaking, though he wasn't sure why since it hadn't been him who'd nearly gotten his heart cut out a second time, and he pulled Arthur close again, wrapping him in another hug as he tried to express how very sorry he was for everything. Even if Arthur didn't blame him, even if it was all 'understandable' or a 'simple error in judgment,' he was shaken to the core. It could have been his stupid promise that would have gotten Arthur killed, and it was his wordless departure that left Arthur alone and confused enough to leave the safety of the inn.

Arthur seemed to understand though, understood just how sorry Alfred was even without words, and returned the hug tightly; one hand drifted up to dig through Alfred's hair and massaged the base of his skull. "It's fine, love—"

"It is _not_ fine! You could've died and it would've been because of me! How is that, or any of this, fine?" Alfred didn't shout the words, but their effect was the same, hissed into Arthur's shoulder with enough self-loathing and disappointment to make even the stoutest of hearts cringe in sympathy. What kind of hero acted like Alfred had the entire time he'd been in Stormhold? What kind of hero bought into false feelings because he was so desperate to fit in with anyone, or ignored the one person who accepted him without question for so long? What kind of hero repeatedly, time and time again, let down that one person, the one he should've been able to protect above anyone else? A shitty one that's what. He couldn't even figure out why Arthur wasn't angrier—Alfred would've been pissed if their situations were reversed, he was sure. Well, not at Artie, but if some other guy had, you know, made the same mistakes that Alfred had. Yeah, yeah then he'd be pissed.

"But you came back, you bloody moron! You came back and I haven't died and I didn't believe you'd really left me anyway—Alfred, please, we can talk about this later. Now's not really the time. I'm not mad at you and you certainly don't need to blame yourself for whatever's happened, all right?" Arthur's eyes were wide and boring into Alfred's gaze with an intensity that was likely half out of adrenaline and half from what he felt for him. Arthur didn't need all of Alfred's doubts and guilt spilled out to him to realize why Alfred was so upset; he just seemed to know. He felt another swell of _rightness_ as he met Arthur's stare. Why had it taken him so long to figure out how perfect they were together? He wanted to kiss him again, but Arthur did have a point—now really wasn't the time.

"Yeah—yeah you're totally right, sorry. We can talk about all this later."

"Good to finally hear some sense out of you." Arthur sniffed the words disdainfully, but his words were softened by the smile across his face. Alfred tugged him towards the door again, meeting his mother's gaze and Matthew's bleary but conscious stare for a moment—and then the doors slammed shut. Alfred stared and he heard Arthur curse from beside him, the hand gripping his tightening with enough force to make Alfred wince. His mom was banging on the doors from the opposite side but they didn't budge; Alfred swallowed and met Arthur's eyes again before turning back towards the spiral staircase on the opposite end of the grand hall.

The witch, Natalia, was standing up, her hair singed and her face contorted in cold rage; the black knife was gripped hard in one hand and she was staring at them with eyes that he could tell were glowing, even from where they were. "Shit—shit, shit shit shit shit!"

"This is why I didn't want to have a heart-to-bloody heart in the middle of a witch's manor!" Arthur's words were tight with fear rather than anger—Alfred felt a fresh wave of guilt from them anyway.

Natalia stared at them before she cocked her head to the side, unnaturally so, and then lifted her arms and made inward motions toward herself. The mirrors that lined the entirety of the hall started to explode around them, forcing them to move to avoid being hit by the flying glass. They were going the wrong way, running away from the glass towards the witch and not towards the closed door, but they didn't have a choice—the glass was cutting backwards, forcing them to move towards her to avoid being cut and sliced to death. She was herding them closer; Alfred felt a cold pit of fear settle in his stomach as the last mirror exploded, leaving them back near the foot of the staircase. Arthur yelped and Alfred glanced back to see that a piece of glass had sliced through his leg; he leaned heavily against Alfred's back and balanced nearly all his weight on the opposite leg. Alfred pulled out his knife again and focused his eyes on the witch, who was aiming her hand straight at him, magic springing forward before he could even twitch.

But—it curved around him and Arthur, not touching or burning either of them, as if there was a bubble surrounding them and keeping the magic out. Natalia stared and fired off more magic before she dropped her hand in confusion and anger; Alfred glanced down at the snowdrop glass flower still tucked into his lapel before he flashed a dark, confident grin at the witch. She couldn't hit him with her magic, not while he had the flower—he could beat her if she couldn't use her magic, he was positive of it! "Don't think your fancy magic tricks are gonna work, lady!"

Natalia sneered at him and started to walk down the stairs, the black knife still in her hand, eyes narrowed and full of menace; Alfred felt a stab of doubt shoot through his confidence, but he tried to push it aside and not think on it. "I suppose I should thank you as well, boy. In your bumbling attempt at a rescue, you've actually restored the Light to the star's heart, making it much more useful to me. What use would the broken heart of a star be in reviving my beloved?"

Alfred just about growled at her words and widened his stance more protectively in front of Arthur; he didn't pay any attention to the sharp, comprehending gasp that echoed in his hair. "You can't have him. I won't let you take his heart!"

"Because you love him? Because that gives you some sort of claim? What about my love? Is yours that much more important than mine, boy?" Natalia lowered her voice from the booming scream and shook her head, stepping off the last stair and onto the marbled floor. "I think not. I will have my beloved returned to me and together we will hold dominion over Stormhold, heralding a glorious age of magic and progress, intertwined and under the Dark Mother's guidance!"

Alfred stared as the corpse he had been battling early, the huge hulking figure of a man with pale hair and green-tinged skin, came shambling over and dropped to his knees before her—Alfred realized with a sick feeling that the corpse was actually Ivan, the prince Matthew had kept referring to. He lifted his knife in front of him, trying to calm the shake of his hand as he saw something dark float past his shoulder settle over the corpse; he nearly jumped when he felt Arthur's hand, warm and strong, rest on his shoulder and turn his body slightly towards him. Natalia was staring at both intently, her black knife raised and ready to slice through Alfred to reach Arthur, and Alfred tried to shake the hand off, tried to get back into his fighting stance even if it was pointless—the witch was probably just as dangerous without her magic as she was with it and Alfred had been kidding himself before. She wouldn't still be alive and kicking if she wasn't.

"Alfred! Alfred, I need you to drop the blade and hold me tight." Arthur's whispered the words into his neck, but he could still hear them. Alfred could feel his head shake in instinct; if he dropped the sword, the witch was going to launch herself at them and then Alfred would be dead and Arthur not far behind him.

"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna drop the knife when she's like two seconds from attacking! If I can keep her busy, there's a chance you can get out and—"

"Listen to me, Alfred! I need you to trust me and do as I say. Now, drop your blade, hold me tight, and bloody well remember what it is that stars do!"

Alfred stared at him for a moment, but dropped the long knife and did as Arthur told him. He felt Arthur's wings unfurl and spread out as he wrapped his arms around his back and tried not to think about how any second the witch was going to rush forward and kill them both. One of Arthur's hands wrapped around the base of his neck while the other clutched at the back of his tunic and Alfred could feel the sharp edges of the stupid necklace digging into his chest they were pressed so close together. Arthur felt unusually warm—and then he started to glow again. But it was more than just glowing; he was growing more and more luminous, radiant even, until 'glowing' seemed like an incomplete way to describe him. The last thing he heard before his sight and touch overwhelmed him was a happy, almost breathy whisper in his ear from Arthur; one, clear word that fit perfectly.

"Shine."

Alfred watched as Arthur's wings curled around them halfway, shining brighter and brighter until all the beautiful details of Arthur's feathers faded into a solid white that was near blinding. The light kept building until it erupted into fire along the edge of his vision, burning and crawling over the broken glass, floor, and ceiling, wrapping around the motionless corpse and the witch, who could only howl wordlessly as light consumed everything. He felt Arthur's hands, unnaturally hot but somehow not burning his skin, tilt his head until it has buried in the juncture of his neck and shoulder; Alfred closed his eyes against the skin there and marveled how everything was still so _bright_, even with his eyes shut. He felt laughter bubble out of him and he pressed it into Arthur's shoulder as the light continued to grow and wash over him in warm, comforting waves that felt like every kind of embrace imaginable. He thought, just for a second, he could here Arthur whispering something to him, something about his heart and Alfred, but he couldn't quite make it out.

Not that it mattered, Alfred knew what Arthur was trying to say—it was what he'd been trying to say for days. His heart, in exchange for Alfred's. Alfred nodded against Arthur's skin as the light grew impossible bright and everything seemed to fade and compress together all at once. He wondered idly if this was kind of what exploding felt like, just without the mess or pain. Because that would've been bad and nothing about what he was feeling was bad.

The light faded away slowly until everything snapped back into place; Alfred blinked his eyes against Arthur's neck for a second before he lifted his head and met Arthur's open eyes and self-satisfied smile. All around them, the marble was pure white and there were still some scorching corners where the fire hadn't completely died out yet; the glass had melted into the ground to form a new, mirrored floor and sunlight was streaming inside from the blown out windows. He blinked and settled his eyes on a pile of what looked like dust and glitter scattered across the stairs, where Natalia had been standing and screaming only moments (or hours? It was hard to tell) before. There was no sign of the corpse. He focused his eyes back on Arthur, whose wings were still spread out, his feathers ruffling a little at the bottom. He was still bright and shining and so fucking beautiful, it was almost painful to just look at him.

"You—what the hell was that?"

Arthur put a little space between them, but didn't unwind his arms from around Alfred. "I told you. What do stars do best? They shine—you remember that crater you found me in. The one that looked like a meteor had crashed and burned all the surrounding area? That was from my Light."

Alfred blinked. "So that—but why didn't you do that before? That totally kicked ass!"

Arthur's grin lost a bit of its smugness and a tint of red colored his cheeks. "Well, I was rather upset before you came in and—the saying goes 'no star can shine with a broken heart' but that's really a misnomer. Any sort of heightened emotional stress that makes a star unhappy enough can create that issue and then I didn't think about it before because when I shine as bright as I did, I could kill people and I didn't want to kill your mother and—"

Alfred kissed Arthur soundly on the lips, effectively cutting off the rest of his babble and cradled his face in his hands when they separated. "It was awesome—you are awesome."

Arthur's smile softened and he ducked his head, resting his forehead against Alfred's cheek, his wings slowly folding back into a relaxed state against his back. Alfred chuckled, not because anything was funny really, but more because they were both alive and had just went through something incredible; he ran one of his hands down Arthur's exposed back, smiling at the downy-soft feathers that formed at the base of his wings. "So, if your Light kills people and stuff, why didn't it hurt me? I mean, it felt really warm, but it was a good warm, not like face-melting or anything."

Arthur hummed against his cheek before he pulled away; he looked exhausted and sleepy, and not all that different than what he had looked like after they had—you know, had sex. Alfred swallowed and shook the thought away—sex in the middle of a witch's destroyed manor with his mom and a prince outside was _not_ something he should be considering. At all. "The Light didn't harm you because it recognized what you are to me—you know what they say about stars and those who possess their hearts. The Light will never harm you—it might have made you go blind, staring up at it as you had been so foolishly doing, but that would be the worst of it."

"You know, stars are pretty cheesy."

"Shut up, wanker." Alfred did so gladly, meeting Arthur in another kiss before a voice behind them cleared her throat pointedly. He turned and looked back at his mom, giving Arthur a bright smile before he let him go and rushed over to the woman he'd been dreaming about meeting for years. She laughed and met his hug, her head at just the right height to bury against his shoulder; he'd never hugged her before, and the only thing he knew about her was what he had seen today and the letter she had sent, but holding her in his arms, he felt like maybe that was enough. She gave a watery laugh and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek before stepping back to look up at him.

"You were wonderful, Alfred, and so brave! I'm so very proud of you—I was terrified when I saw those doors close and I—" she seemed to lose herself for a moment before she shook her head and turned towards Arthur. "And that was brilliant, Arthur! Matthew thought so too, he woke up just in time to see you get started, but he's not quite up to moving at the moment."

Alfred grinned as his mother hurried over to wrap Arthur in a great hug, surprise and awkwardness radiating off of Arthur as he tried to return the hug with his arms pinned down tight to his sides. He walked to the side and peeked out at Matthew, who was resting on the ground against a large boulder; he waved at the man, who returned his wave and then pointed to the ground. Alfred cocked his head to the side but followed where Matthew was pointing, his eyes coming to rest on the large, clear stone that Arthur had been wearing around his neck for the past week. The necklace must have broken when Arthur let out his Light, but the stone still looked whole and unblemished—he shrugged and picked it up off the ground. The moment it was resting in his palm, a deep, dark red bloomed up from the center of the stone and spread out until it looked like a ruby. He blinked, looked back at Matthew, who appeared to be sleeping again, and jogged over to his mom and Arthur.

"Hey! This stone thing, did it change colors on you before? It just turned red all of a sudden." Alfred held it out for both Arthur and his mom to look at it; Arthur looked puzzled while his mom just smirked and nodded her head.

"Good, then everything's finally settled!"

"Um, what do you mean? Is it supposed to change colors?"

"Only if the next king of Stormhold touched it, as decreed by my father on his deathbed if he still had surviving sons at his passing. Papa used to whisper all his clever back up plans to me when I was younger and not yet enslaved—and that's you, Alfred."

He stared at his mom and then glanced over at Arthur, who looked equally shocked, before he looked back down at the stone. "So—so I'm a king now?"

"Sure are."

"And Matthew…he's my uncle?"

"Yep."

"And any kids I have are going to have to kill each other to get the crown?"

His mom laughed and rested her hand on his arm lovingly. "Well, that's the beauty about being king, especially a king who was raised outside of Stormhold for his own protection, which is the story we will of course tell all the dukes, lords, and council members. You can make your own traditions, all in the name of cultural ignorance. Lovely, isn't it?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders and watched his mom flounce back towards the doors of the manor, a slight skip to her step and a song echoing from her lips. He slipped the ruby inside his coat and looked at Arthur again. "She telling the truth?"

"Seems that way—I do remember that I was watching the last king of Stormhold do something with this necklace before it knocked me out of the sky." Arthur slipped his hand inside Alfred's own and started tugging him out of the manor after his mom. "And she is a princess, so you would have a claim to the throne anyway—I must say, I wonder how much of all this she planned out. It seemed to work out all rather well."

Alfred nodded jerkily and tightened his hand around Arthur's. "You're gonna stay with me right? I mean—I don't think I can be a king on my own and—I mean, I am a hero and all but I mess up a lot and if I'm the guy in charge, my mess-ups can cause wars, right? Or other bad stuff—shit, we need to get my dad! He'll think I'm dead or something."

Arthur laughed and kissed the corner of Alfred's mouth as they walked out of the manor hand in hand, shoulders squared together to face whatever the future had in store for the pair of them. It was nice to think about them in those terms, as a pair—Alfred grinned despite his worries and mind-numbing fear about being a _king_ of all things and leaned his head close. "That's another thing about stars, love. Once you've caught us, we never leave you alone. We're a bother like that."

Bother, true love, whichever really.

* * *

><p>"As you can imagine, quite a lot happened between Alfred discovering he was a king and actually getting crowned as king. They fetched his father first, and by they, I obviously mean Alfred and Elizaveta since a star can't cross into the mortal realm, and after a shortened version of the extraordinary story that Alfred had lived, he packed his bags and left his home in Wall behind. None of them looked back even once as they left and crossed over through the gap in the wall—"<p>

"Papa, do you _have_ to keep calling Grandpa and yourself by your names? We know you're talking about _you_! Momma and Da told us last night that your story was about how you two met and Grandpa became king!" Arthur blinked down and smiled softly at the scowling face Peter had screwed up at him, his younger sister Wynona* beside him but not looking nearly as cross. He mocked a scowl back and tapped Peter on the nose, his wings folded neatly against his back, no longer white after so many years earthbound, but a soft golden color. His wings were the only thing that looked different about him, even after nearly fifty years—but he was a star so it wasn't all that unusual to him. It was to others.

A lot _had_ happened between Alfred picking up that gemstone and where they were now; Alfred was off somewhere, talking with his heirs and Arthur was obviously here, entertaining the youngest of their grandchildren. Alfred's father had passed, and his mother, dear Elizaveta, wasn't too far behind. She was showing her full age now, all one hundred and twenty years of it, and Arthur knew most of that was because she missed her husband. Matthew had passed only a few short year before, and it had likely been the most peaceful a death for a Stormhold prince in generations; his sleep had taken him after a rather nasty bout of pneumonia. Arthur knew Alfred still mourned for him, and truth be told so did Arthur, though he was much better at adjusting to how swift earthbound lives were than Alfred was. Matthew and Alfred had grown very close over the years, both working towards changing the kingdom and the royal family customs for the better—Matthew really had been a kind-hearted young man underneath the murderous persona he had adopted in his youth while trying to change the kingdom the only way he and his sister had known how.

Alfred and Arthur had ruled Stormhold for years, after a quick journey through Stormhold, this one purely for pleasure and without the fear of being hunted by witches every step of the way. Alfred's mother had ruled the capital in his stead and had done it well—she had been beloved by the people and they had been ecstatic to have her back among them after so long, especially when they learned how she'd been enslaved to an evil witch. They had spent a great deal of time traveling with Francis and his crew, who had been happy they had worked everything out between them and welcomed them on their different adventures. And once they had exhausted their need to find themselves and each other away from court and politics, they had returned and Alfred's mother had stepped aside with that encouraging, sly smile of hers. Alfred had been nervous of course, because what near twenty-one year old wouldn't be nervous in assuming control over an entire kingdom? But the people had welcomed him and his unique view. And he had done so well, despite any doubts or challenges that he had faced along the way.

And then children had come. Not through normal means, obviously, as they were both men and stars were barren with earthbound beings anyway, but Elizaveta had learned quite a bit about magic during her indenture under Bridget Oakbark and Birth Spells was among that. A little of Alfred and Arthur, mixed together with Alfred's seed and a surrogate's egg and womb, and the next thing they knew, they had four children of their own, who then went on to have children of their own. Peter and Wynona were the youngest children of their oldest daughter, named Erin for Arthur's fallen sister who had been killed so many years ago. Arthur knew he wasn't meant to have favorites among his grandchildren, but his youngest were especially hard to resist, even if Peter reminded him too much of himself to be comfortable. Right down to the eyebrows—he had been a little regretful that particular trait had passed on to so many of his children and grandchildren.

The tradition of heirs killing each other off for the throne had been the first thing done away with, right after Alfred had held their oldest son, named Roderich for his father, for the first time. Alfred had wondered that night, aloud to Arthur in the quiet of their bed after all the drama of having your first child had relaxed, how his grandfather or any other members of his family could ever have let such a terrible tradition go on. How any of them could have been all right with watching their children kill one another—Arthur hadn't had an answer for him. Instead, he'd kissed him and told Alfred the fact that he could not fathom having his children assassinate one another for the crown made him a better king, a better man, than any of his ancestors. It hadn't been easy to do away with, many of the ducal lords and councilmen were too set in their ways to endorse so radical a change, but Alfred had been resolute and with Matthew supporting him, it had happened. Much to Arthur's relief—if those old men had refused to budge, Arthur had told himself he was going to have to show them just how terrifying a wrathful star could be.

Yes, many things had happened, but Arthur knew, as did Alfred, that their time earthbound was ending. Their children were grown and Erin had unanimously been chosen by her siblings and the council as the next ruler of Stormhold, the first queen the kingdom had ever seen—they weren't needed here anymore. Peter scrunched his nose and swatted away Arthur's hand, glaring up at him with green eyes just a shade off Arthur's own. Wynona giggled when Arthur made a face her way, mimicking her brother's pout before he smiled and brushed back some of her hair from her face. "Well, if your mum and da told you this was our story, you certainly don't need me to tell you the end then."

"No! We want to hear! Tell 'im Peter, we still want to hear it!" Wynona's eyes were wide and she was practically bouncing in her seat in their playroom. She elbowed her brother but gave Arthur a sheepish grin when he fixed her with a look.

"We don't elbow your brother, darling."

"Sorry…sorry Pete."

Peter nodded and then turned back to Arthur, scowl gone and his own apologetic expression on his face. "I do want to hear the end, Papa. I bet your version is more fun than what Momma told us. She didn't tell us all the parts where people died, said we were too little."

"She did not!" Arthur held back his grin behind his mask of shock and outrage as his grandchildren nodded emphatically back at him. "Well, I will surely be having words with your mother about that!"

They giggled a little, but then Wynona turned her big eyes upwards and Arthur knew that they knew. "But Momma said you and Grandpa are going away—that you're going back home. Are you? You're leaving us?"

Arthur smiled sadly and wrapped an arm around his granddaughter, pulling her close; Peter stared at him, moody again with his arms crossed and out of reach. Arthur had been dreading this moment for the past week and now it had arrived; he felt powerful tugs of sadness and regret rush through him as he studied the young faces of two people he loved so much. Two people he would likely never see again. He took a deep breath and pushed aside the unpleasant feeling; they needed him to be strong, to assure them that even though he was leaving, they would still hold a piece of him with them. "I could never leave you, not really. Want to know why?"

They both nodded. "Because when you love someone deeply, they can never leave you, even if you don't see them every day, or even ever again. You remember your Uncle Mattie, don't you? He may have gone, but he's still with you, in the curl of your hair, Wynona, or the sharpness of your words, Peter. It will be the same as your grandpa and I—you may not see us, but we will still be here with you, through every step and choice you make in your lives, and we will always love you."

"And watch over us? Momma says that's what stars really do best!"

Arthur grinned at Wynona. "We do watch very well, among other things as you've just heard! And yes, loves, we will watch over you every day of your lives and every time you look to the sky, you will see us shining and know that we love you so, so much. And, you'll have these."

Arthur reached over into a small box he'd brought with him before visiting his youngest grandchildren—it was much lighter than it had been when he first said his goodbyes to his children and older grandchildren, and pulled out the last pair of feathers tied together and handed them both to Peter and Wynona. One gold, and one such a pale blue it nearly looked white. Peter smiled, despite himself, as he took the feathers and Wynona squealed as she brushed them against the side of her face. She loved doing that; Mother moon, he would miss her; he would miss all of the family and friends he had collected while earthbound. "Any time you want to talk to us, or keep us close, just hold onto the feather and you'll feel us there with you."

"Thank you, Papa Artie!"

"Yeah, thanks Papa!"

"Do you still have time to tell us the end of the story?"

"Please? Pretty please?"

Arthur laughed and held out his other arm, letting Peter huddle into his side and squeezed them both close. "You want the end, you say?"

"Yes!"

"But you already know the end. Alfred, Grandpa, became king and he ruled Stormhold for many, many years, changing the kingdom for the better and beloved by his people. And his star stayed with him, by his side, giving him advice when needed and love always. And we lived as happily ever after as can be reasonably expected."

"And is that why Grandpa looks young still?"

"Uncle Roderich said so!"

"And your uncle would be right. You know the legend—'he who possesses the heart of a star will live forever.' I gave mine to your grandpa completely, for his in exchange. It's why he can come up to the sky with me and watch over you and your children, and your children's children forever." Arthur pressed a soft kiss into both of their foreheads before he loosened his hold; they took the hint and got up, each giving him a hug, a slight shine to their skin as their own small Light shone through. "Now, I think it's quite late for the pair of you and if I keep you much longer, I'll have to face my own scolding from your mum, so off you get."

They both looked sad but gave him one last hug and did as he said, the pair of feathers clutched tightly in their hands—Arthur watched them go and stared into the empty space they had left behind with a forlorn expression until he felt a coarse, warm hand settle against his shoulder. He smiled wanly and turned to look up into Alfred's eyes, turning into Alfred's hold and wrapping his hand around the one on his shoulder. Alfred's blue eyes were unnaturally deep and bright and smiling at him from behind his glasses; his own wings, the wings that had grown and come into existence the longer Arthur stayed by his side, we furled out behind him, their pale blue a tad darker in the soft light of the room. He looked as he had for the past fifty years, no older than twenty with strong shoulders and an unbent spine, despite being nearly seventy; and in his hand, he held a black Babylon candle, a gift from his mother when Alfred's father had died.

"We don't need to go now, Artie. We can wait a bit longer, if you want. Erin will be fine assuming control and we could just hang out, maybe go on a few more adventures with the grandkids."

Arthur shook his head. "No—if we wait any longer, we'll never be able to leave them. They don't need us here any longer and we—you can feel her calling, can't you? Mother moon is singing for us to return to the sky. We should go, they're ready for us to leave; and so are we, no matter how much we'll miss them."

Alfred nodded and held up the black candle between them. They had been planning this for years, but now that the moment was upon them, it seemed too big, too unknown, and Arthur felt a strong resistance to leaving the earth he had once cursed to be sent to. The sky didn't seem like home anymore—but perhaps that was just part of life. One chapter had ended, a chapter Arthur had never imagined for himself but was so, _so_ happy he had been blessed to have, and now the next was beginning. They were funny, beginnings that is, he thought to himself as Alfred leaned in close and kissed him softly, one hand cupping the back of his head while Arthur's arms wrapped around his back. Everything was a beginning really, when you really thought about it; endings especially, if you were a star. And they both were.

"You're not scared? Of going to the sky?"

"Scared? Naw, I'm a hero, remember? We don't get scared when we've got our special someone by our side!"

"And the long life? I thought you once said you had no interest in it."

"Unless I had someone to share it with—so unless you're planning on leaving me for some younger, hotter star, which you would never find because I am awesome, then—"

"Oh shut it, you." Arthur smiled and pressed another kiss to Alfred's lips, placing his other hand around Alfred's on the candle. "Are you ready?"

Alfred grinned and they both let their Light shine around the candle. "Absolutely."

And then, with a spark of a wick and their combined Light shining all around, they were gone in a flash, speeding towards the sky and the welcoming embrace of all their brothers and sisters. Towards their new beginning, together.

**_Finis_**

* * *

><p>Wynona=Wy<p>

Thanks so much to everyone for all your support and reviews for this story! I really enjoyed writing this story and I'm so happy you all joined me for this ride! As this is the final chapter, I would love to know what you all thought of this story as a whole! Whether you commented every chapter, or lurked and liked from afar, I would love to hear what you thought! See you round the bend, lovelies!

Osco


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